“Drive to the City Hospital,” he ordered, “and break the speed law if you want to.”
When they drew up under the porte-cochère at the hospital, two orderlies came, lifted out the still unconscious boy, carried him in, and started with him down the corridor.
“Where are you taking him?” asked Ben.
“To the men’s ward,” was the reply. “I suppose he’s one of the rioters you’ve picked up.”
“Rioter!” Ben gazed at the orderly so fiercely that the young fellow almost lost his grip on the boy’s shoulders. “Rioter nothing! He’s General Chick. He’s a friend of mine. No men’s ward for him! He’s to have a private room, a special nurse, and the best the hospital affords.” He turned to the superintendent who had now come up. “I wish you’d send the house surgeon to him at once. Give him everything he needs. As soon as I can get in touch with Dr. Norton I’ll have him come up and look after him. Send all bills to me.”
“Very well, Mr. Barriscale. We’ll do our best for him.”
The orderlies were already wheeling Chick to the elevator to take him up-stairs.
Barriscale turned to Manning.
“Now, Corporal,” he said, “you can take me to the guard-house.”