A delicate operation was performed yesterday on the skull of Darrell, the Canadian fugitive who is recovering from injuries in the Bridgeboro hospital. The shaving of the hair from his head for the purpose of dressing a slight wound received on the day of his capture was the means of revealing a small damage to the skull, evidently caused by a previous accident. It was found that the crushed area of bone caused a depression deep enough to press upon the brain which might account for his mental state which is said to be abnormal.
Darrell has been subject to occasional fits of depression and is said to have become easily excited. The present indications are that the operation was successful. The patient is resting easily and talks more rationally than at any time since his capture. A police guard is being kept at his bedside and it is the intention of the authorities to question him when he is able to submit to such examination.
County Detective Ferrett, whose skill is responsible for the capture of Darrell where he was in hiding at Camp Merritt, thinks that the damage to his skull may very likely have been caused by a blow received in an altercation at the time he killed his victim.
And so a few days elapsed, and the poor helpless victim was surrounded by officials enough, both local and Canadian, to capture the whole hospital. But the victim, pale and swathed and bandaged, had the advantage of them, and they could only wait. Old Mother Nature cannot be hurried by the law. Much of the time Blythe slept. Then, one fine day, he asked for Roy and Pee-wee. They asked him what he wanted of Roy and Pee-wee and he said he wanted to hear them jolly each other....
CHAPTER XXX
THE VISIT
“I guess we ought to have a rehearsal, hey?” laughed Roy.
“We don’t need any rehearsal,” said Pee-wee; “when we get there you just start jollying me and I’ll answer you back. I don’t care what you say, you can say anything you want. I’ll say a lot of things about the Silver Foxes, hey? And you knock the Ravens; knock them good and hard, I don’t care. Call me a raving Raven because that always made him laugh.”
“Don’t worry,” Roy said, “he only has to look at you to laugh.”
“Shall I wear all my stuff so you can make fun of me?” Pee-wee asked.