Hen's mouth thinned down to a straight line as he started the car.
"Not too fast!" said Porky. "It is not far." He repeated the street and number. Hen made a quick turn and glided smoothly across a side street. Beany, looking behind, saw Jim Morris give a look after them, then start his car and dash off, the insensible figure of the Weasel swaying on the back seat.
He drove to the nearest hospital without the loss of a single moment's time. Round the monstrous building, with it's spreading maze of pavilions, he went through a court, and stopped at a doorway which opened directly on a large elevator.
He pressed a button, and a white-clad attendant appeared.
"Drunk?" he asked.
"Stuck!" said Jim briefly.
"Stabbed?" asked the attendant.
"'S what I said," retorted Jim, and almost before he could realize it, the unconscious Weasel, the attendant and himself were being smoothly carried to the emergency ward, far above.
The attendant motioned to Jim, and they went silently into an office where another man, also in while, sat at a desk, and took down in a big book the circumstances of the Weasel's arrival. He finished, then Jim saw him reach under the desk and press a button. Immediately the door opened, and a couple of heavily built men in plain blue uniforms entered. They read the entry in the big book, then looked searchingly at Jim.
"You are detained, Morris," said the taller of the two, "pending
an examination into this affair." He took up the house telephone.
Presently he turned. "The man is very badly hurt; perhaps dying.
He is unconscious."