“Has he mentioned any names?” asked Nick of the nurse.
“Not a single one.”
Then Nick turned to the doctor.
“Will he live?” he asked.
“I think so. He is young and strong, and may recover, but he may have to learn his alphabet again.”
“That is another trade-mark of the Great Diamond Syndicate,” mused Nick. “Hartley, who was one of their American agents, advocated beating people on the head until they came from the hospital mere imbeciles.”
Things looked suspiciously favorable to the syndicate at that time. As Chick had stated there was no clue to the whereabouts of the persons wanted. Maynard was unconscious and the elevator boy was in the same condition.
On leaving the sick room, Nick hastened to the Townsend residence.
It was a sad-faced family he met there, and for a time he delayed the important questions he had come to ask. It seemed like making little of their sorrow to trouble his parents with matters of the law at that time. Finally he called the father aside.
“You understand how difficult it is for me to break in on you at this time,” he said, “but there are questions which ought to be asked now.”