"Gee whiz! that's a bloodthirsty crew!" the young man exclaimed, his eyes fixed upon the road. "Is he hurt?"
Roche was lying back on the seat. Hunterleys was on his knees, holding on to the framework of the car.
"They've got me all right, Hunterleys," Roche faltered. "Listen. Everything went well with me at first. I could hear—nearly everything. The Frenchman kept his mouth shut—tight as wax. Grex did most of the talking. Russia sees nothing in the entente—England has nothing to offer her. She'd rather keep friends with Germany. Russia wants to move eastward—all Persia—India. She's only lukewarm, any way, about the French alliance as things stand at present, and dead off any truck with England. There's talk of Constantinople, and Germany to march three army corps through a weak French resistance to Calais. They talked of France acting to her pledges, putting her recruits in the front, taking a slight defeat, making a peace on her own account, with Alsace and Lorraine restored. She can pay. Germany wants the money. Germany—Germany—"
The words died away in a little groan. The wounded man's head fell back. Hunterleys passed his arm around the limp figure.
"Take the first turn to the right and second to the left, Richard," he directed. "We'll drive straight to the hospital. I made friends with the English doctor last night. He promised to be there till three. I paid him a fee on purpose."
"First to the right," Richard muttered, swinging around. "Second to the left, eh?"
Hunterleys was holding his brandy flask to Roche's lips as they swung through the white gates and pulled up outside the hospital. The doctor was faithful to his promise, and Roche, who was now unconscious, was carried in. In the hall he was laid upon an ambulance and borne off by two attendants. Hunterleys and Lane sat down to wait in the hall. After what seemed to them an interminable half-hour, the doctor reappeared. He came over to them at once.
"Your friend may live," he announced, "but in any case he will be unconscious for the next twenty-four hours. There is no need for you to stay, or for you to fetch the young lady you spoke of, at present. If he dies, he will die unconscious. I can tell you nothing more until the afternoon."
Hunterleys rose slowly to his feet.
"You'll do everything you can, doctor?" he begged. "Money doesn't count."