“I understand. But I hope he will soon recover.”
Doctor Grant shrugged his shoulders. As a physician, he was more interested in the case from a scientific point of view than anything else. At the same time, he was not wanting in sympathy.
“My advice is to have him removed to a hospital, where he will be under constant supervision and will have proper care. You can put him in a private room—that is, if you do not mind the expense——”
“The expense is nothing,” interrupted the detective impatiently.
“Very well. Then that is what you’d better do. In time, with quiet and careful nursing, together with medical attention, he will come around, I have no doubt. I will see him every day. I’m on the staff of the Universal Hospital—where I should advise you to send him—and I will put him on my regular list.”
An ambulance conveyed the patient to the Universal Hospital, and he was put to bed in one of the best private rooms. Special nurses were engaged for him—one day nurse and one for the night—and orders given that he be not left alone for an instant.
Having done this, the detective could only wait, although it worried him to think that, now that he had found the missing heir, it was only to see him physically unable to take possession of his rights.
“I suppose you are sure this is the real, genuine Howard Milmarsh, eh?” suggested Chick, the evening that they had had the sick, and still partly unconscious, young man taken to the hospital.
“I am not sure of anything,” returned his chief, lighting a perfecto. “But if he isn’t, then I am worse fooled than I am generally in a matter of identity.”