“He isn’t dead, is he?”
Rex’s voice was hardly more than a whisper as he put the awful question. Sydney certainly looked almost like a corpse, with his pallid face and his head hanging itself lifelessly over on one side.
It was a trying situation for the two boys. Neither of them had had the slightest experience with cases of this sort. It was so late in the afternoon that the offices around them were all empty.
“No, he is not dead, I’m sure of that,” Scott replied, who, as the senior of Rex by some eleven months, felt that it was natural for the other to seem to rely upon him. “We ought to have a doctor at once, though.”
“But we can’t leave him that way while I go for one. Besides, I don’t know where to go.”
“Neither do I. Our doctor is clear at the other end of town and besides he’s down at Atlantic City by this time anyway.”
“It’s awful, isn’t it? Oh, what shall we do, Scott?”
“We might ring for an ambulance. That’s the quickest way.”
“Oh, we don’t want to have him taken to the hospital. Come, help me get him out of that chair. It’s horrible to see his head hang over like that.”
“But where can we put him? There’s no lounge about, is there?”