"No, Cummings has disappeared; can't find him anywhere?"
"What about Gibson?"
"I don't know," said Brennan. "No one has tried to find him yet. There'll be plenty of time for that after we come out with our blast in the first edition. And that reminds me, P. Q. is at the office now, waiting for me. We'll work the rest of the night and have everything ready to be set in type by seven o'clock. I'm sorry you won't be able to help us. You had better get some rest so that you'll be strong enough to be on your feet in the morning."
"Will you arrange to get word to my mother that I won't be able to get home?" he asked. "Tell her that I must work all night at the office. Don't give her any hint that I'm hurt."
"I'll arrange it," Brennan assured him, starting toward the door.
"Just a minute," said John, bringing his unbandaged hand above the covers. Brennan stopped and, turning, saw the hand extended toward him.
"I don't care what you say, Brennan," John said, "you've got to shake hands with me."
Brennan hesitated and then returned to the bedside, grasping John's hand. For a moment they regarded each other silently.
"You saved my life, Brennan, and I'll never forget it," said John slowly. "If it had not been for you I would be where Murphy is and you know it."
"If it had not been for Murphy they would have got both of us," said Brennan. "They went to him to try to find out who we were and I don't believe he told them."