Betraying the alarm he could not repress, Osgood made one more effort to arouse the limp fellow on the floor. Then he spoke swiftly, excitedly to the others.
“Somebody bring some water from the bathroom,” he directed. “Roy’s stunned. I’ll loosen up his collar so he can breathe. Help me place him on his back. Bring the water quick!”
Trembling and sick at heart, Piper found his way to the bathroom, drew a glass of water from the lavatory faucet, and hurried back with it.
Osgood and Springer were kneeling on either side of the prostrate lad, while Cooper, pale and agitated, stood looking on as if he could not bring himself to offer assistance or did not know what to do. Shultz, his jaws hard set, his breast heaving, stood at a little distance, watching.
“Give me the water, Piper,” requested Osgood, plainly trying to maintain as much calmness as possible. “Hand Phil a book or magazine or something to fan him with. Some one open a window and let some of this smoke out. Make as little noise as you can. Perhaps they didn’t hear him fall, and if we can bring him round all right, nobody must ever know what happened.”
Hooker’s tie had been removed and his collar and neckband unbuttoned. He lay quite still—horribly still, Piper thought. There was a bruise on his almost ghastly cheek where Shultz’s fist had struck. His eyes were closed, and the lids did not even seem to flutter. In his white shirt-sleeves, he seemed fearfully deathlike to the staring eyes of Billy Piper.
“Get that window open, I tell you!” ordered Osgood almost fiercely, as he began pouring water into the palm of his hand and bathing Hooker’s temples. “Fan him, Springer.”
“This is horrible!” Sleuth whispered to himself, as he opened a window. “I wish I’d never come here to-night.”
After a few minutes Shultz began to betray concern. “Isn’t he coming round?” he asked.
“If you’ve killed him,” said Piper bitterly, “you won’t be the only one to suffer for it. Nobody in this bunch ever will be able to hold his head up again in Oakdale.”