"I think the old chap will pull through all right," he said to himself.
Up a dark, quiet street sped the car, then came to a stop before a massive stone house with a neat gilt plate beside the door. The motorcycles roared up and the boys dismounted.
"We'll take him in and let the doctor have a look at him," said Mr. Jacobson. "If he is in bad shape, the doc will put him in his own private hospital. He'll get the best of care here."
Carefully, they carried Captain Royal up the steps. Their ring was answered by a servant, and they took the old man into a waiting room. The doctor, who had been in bed, soon came downstairs in pyjamas and dressing gown.
"An accident case, Doctor," explained Frank. "This old man fell off a cliff into the sea and he's been unconscious for eight or nine hours."
The doctor made a swift examination. His frown deepened as he inspected the cut on Captain Royal's temple.
"Queer!" he said. "It isn't a very bad cut, and there seems to be no sign of a fracture. It looks like concussion of the brain, to me, but he doesn't appear to have had a very hard blow."
"The waves washed him up against the rocks," said Joe.
The doctor shook his head.
"He seems in a bad way. Eight hours, you said?"