Another detective raced down the stairs, while those who remained commenced to search the room for hiding places.
"I know where he's got some stuff hidden," Asa said thickly. "Take off his shoe; the other one," and someone did so. "Get that iron thing on the table," Asa continued, "and get the heel off."
The Chief had it done in a moment and the tiny squares of paper fluttered to the floor. The Chief picked them carefully up, and put them in his pocketbook as a wild clanging down below announced the coming of the ambulance. A couple of doctors came up, three steps at a time, and examined the Wolf. A bandage soon stopped the flow of blood, and, still unconscious, he was carried down the stairs. A detective picked Asa up and prepared to follow, but that young man stiffened, the way a spunky boy sometimes does, and slid through the man's arms. As he came to his feet, he let out a howl of pain, and went to his knees. But he was speaking.
"Not with him!" he cried hoarsely. "Not with him! I won't go in the ambulance with the Wolf! He'll come to yet and kill somebody, and he'll blame me for the whole thing. I'd rather stay here."
"All right," said the Chief. "You need not go in the ambulance. I will carry you down to the police car, and we will take you right over to Mr. Leffingwell's."
He picked Asa up in his arms and carried him downstairs and into the first car. There was quite a procession of them when they finally started, after leaving a heavy guard in the house, and very soon they pressed the button at Mr. Leffingwell's door, which was opened by Barton, the butler.
"'Ow! Bless my 'art!" said Barton, quite like a human being, and stepped back. It was Timmins who stepped forward; Timmins who took Asa and bore him into the living room where Colonel Bright, Mr. Leffingwell, John, his son, and Mr. and Mrs. Potter all rose to their feet, when Timmins walked in. Mr. Leffingwell would have another doctor; and while they waited five minutes for him (he was right in the building) Asa, suffering pretty badly, but not giving a sign of it, except for his twitching face, lay on the settee, with Timmins fixing his pillows some other way every second, and Barton off ordering a hot drink from the cook, who had taken a peek, and was crying out in the kitchen.
Nobody knew anything about what the boys had been through, but nobody asked a word; only Porky and Beany kissed their mother hard, and hugged their dad, and were pounded on the back by Mr. Leffingwell, who seemed to have a bad cold. When the doctor came, he ordered Asa straight to bed, and Timmins carried him off with the haughty Barton stalking in the rear, a glass of egg and milk in one hand and hot chocolate in the other.