For an instant it seemed as if Swanson would forget himself and become violent. With an effort he controlled his anger and sank back upon the pillows.
"All right," he said resignedly, "let me telephone to the boss and explain."
"You are not going to quit, Silent?" demanded Kennedy, starting up in bed. "I'll go myself"——
The quick wink that Swanson gave him stopped the catcher's angry expostulation.
"That's a good boy!" said the nurse pleasantly. "There isn't any use to fret. I'll bring you the telephone."
The telephone was brought, and, when the nurse left the room Swanson called up the hotel at which they lived.
"That you, Joe?" he said rapidly. "This is Silent—yes, in hospital. Send a taxi to the corner as fast as you can get it here. I'll be watching."
He cut off the carriage clerk's curious questions by hanging up the receiver.
"What are you going to do?" whispered Kennedy from his bed.
"I'm going out of here," said Swanson. He crept out of bed, and with his face pressed against the window, watched the corner four floors below until a taxicab stopped there and waited. Then, drawing a sheet over his night gown, he opened the door cautiously.