CHAPTER X
Meanwhile, Captain Harrison of the Medical Corps entered the Conover apartment briskly.
“You old vagabond, what have you been up to? I beg pardon!”—as he saw Kitty emerge from behind Cutty's bulk.
“This is Miss Conover, Harrison.”
“Very pleased, I'm sure. Luckily my case was in the coat room at the club. I took the liberty of telephoning for Miss Frances, who returned on the same ship with me. I concluded that your friend would need a nurse. Let me have a look at him.”
Callously but lightly and skillfully the surgeon examined the battered head. “Escaped concussion by a hair, you might say. Probably had his cap on. That black eye, though, is an older affair. Who is he?”
“I suspect he's some political refugee. We don't know a thing about him otherwise. How soon can he be moved?”
“He ought to be moved at once and given the best of care.”
“I can give him that in my eagle's nest. Harrison, this chap's life is in danger; and if we get him into my lofty diggings they won't be able to trace him. Not far from here there's a private hospital I know. It goes through from one street to the next. I know the doctor. We'll have the ambulance carry the patient there, but at the rear I'll have one of the office newspaper trucks. And after a little wait we'll shoot the stretcher into the truck. The police will not bother us. I've seen to that. I rather believe it falls in with some of my work. The main idea, of course, is to rid Miss Conover of any trouble.”
“Just as you say,” agreed the surgeon. “That's all I can do for the present. I'll run down to the entrance and wait for The nurse.”