Flash walked to the door. There he paused.
“Oh, by the way,” he said carelessly, “did you ever learn who it was that struck you over the head?”
Major Hartgrove made a swift turn in his wheel chair.
“What was that?” he demanded.
Flash repeated the question.
“You’re mistaken, young man,” the Major snapped. “No one struck me. What gave you that idea?”
“Merely your own words. When I helped you from the wreck you muttered that someone had struck you and taken your wallet.”
“Then I was dazed. I may have been hit by a falling timber when the car was derailed. Nothing was stolen from me. An absurd notion!”
“Oh, I see,” said Flash. “My mistake, Major.”
Without waiting for a reply he went out the door, softly closing it behind him.