Marsden felt for Jasper’s heart, and then drew his hand along his slack body. He was cool and gentle, for a forge manager knows something about broken men.
“I think not. To move him is risky, but we must get him out.”
He turned and waved back the men. Four of the works ambulance pushed through the group. Marsden, kneeling by the ingot mold, gave some orders, and in a few moments Jasper was on the stretcher. They carried him to the office, Marsden telephoned, and soon afterwards a hospital ambulance arrived.
“Go back to the visitors and persuade them Carson is not much hurt,” Marsden said to Ledward. “Give them some wine, and when you get them off ask for me at the hospital.”
As a rule Ledward’s nerve was good, but politeness cost him something, and he was relieved to see the party go. Then he went to the hospital and joined Marsden in the waiting-room. The night was cold, and Ledward shivered. The room was bleak and very clean, like a prison.
“Have you seen the doctors?” he inquired.
“They haven’t finished their examination. I expect the house surgeon will come down presently. The forge and the rolling mills are pretty good customers.”
“Do you know why Carson fell?”
“All I saw you saw. Something went wrong and he was in time to turn up the converter. Then perhaps he was dazzled by the flame; or perhaps the jump to the platform shook him. The floor plates are greasy——”
Ledward nodded. “How do you explain the converter man’s slackness? Had liquor something to do with it?”