“I’ve what?” inquired Hezekiah, much perplexed. Light dawned upon him. “Oh, yes–quite so–assuredly,” he indulged in a soft chuckle. “I am dense at times. Slow might be better, eh?” Again he chuckled. “Slow for the rising generations, particularly–” he smiled genially at Joe–“when they ride motorcycles.”
Joe abated none of his vigilance. His policy was that of watchful waiting.
“The day is very warm,” continued Hezekiah, looking about the ward with interest. “This is a delightfully cool and pleasant place. You are to be congratulated upon having such comfortable quarters in which to recuperate.”
“Say!” Joe’s voice was distinctly hostile. “Are you the advertising agent for this hospital?”
Hezekiah’s trained ear sensed unfriendliness abroad. He changed his manner of approach with the quickness of a skilled strategist. “Mr. Curtis,” he went on briskly, “I represent Mr. Obadiah Dale. You have no doubt heard of him?”
Joe nodded.
“Your motorcycle ran into Mr. Dale’s automobile yesterday,” the lawyer resumed. “I do not come to seek compensation for the injury to his car. I am delighted, finding you as I do upon a bed of pain, to be upon a much pleasanter mission.” Hezekiah smiled benignantly. “There was a witness to the accident. With some difficulty, I have located him and procured his statement. While it may be conceded that this person has no special skill or training in estimating the speed of moving vehicles, he is” (the attorney’s manner expressed assurance) “prepared to testify that you were operating your machine at a speed in excess of that permitted by law.” He paused as if awaiting an incriminating admission.
“Go on,” snapped Joe.
Hezekiah continued with increased emphasis. “Assuming this to be true, it appears that you were entirely or in part responsible for the accident and the consequent damage to Mr. Dale’s car and your own person.”
“Not on your life,” cried Joe with great excitement. “I have a witness who says the Dale car was to blame for the accident and that it was exceeding the speed limit.”