Mr. Tyson really looked so disgusted that Randy could not refrain from smiling.
“The newspapers got hold of it and pictured me as a regular ogre. Now it wasn’t our fault at all when this friend of yours got hurt this evening. He had no business in the street—don’t you see?”
“Say, if he hadn’t got there where would that child in the baby carriage be?” demanded Randy indignantly.
“Yes, that’s true,” agreed the millionaire slowly, “but even there they could not legally hold us. The baby carriage had no lights on it. Let all that go, though. This Pep was a brave fellow to risk his life for the child, and I’m glad he did it. My lawyer, after the last case, though, told me what to do in future accidents, so I followed his advice. I captured your friend and I intend to keep him captured.”
“I don’t think you will,” began Randy, rising wrathfully to his feet. “He’s a poor boy, but he’s got some friends and——”
“Pish! Don’t get excited. Keep cool, lad, hear me through. We rushed your friend here, summoned the best surgeon in Brenton, and this Pep of yours is snug and comfortable as a dormouse—in bed in the best room in the house. I’m going to give him the best of care and pay him for any loss of time he may sustain. Isn’t that fair?”
“Why—I suppose so,” admitted Randy. “Only—what does Pep say?”
“Well, at first he was going to fight us, lame hand and all. Then the surgeon talked some sense into him, by telling him that if he would use a little care and not use his arm he would be well as ever inside of a week. If he didn’t, he may have all kinds of complications in the future. To be frank with you, all I care for is to turn the boy out sound and well, so he can’t be coming along later on with another of those twenty thousand dollar damage suits.”
“Can I see him?” inquired Randy.
“You surely can,” replied Mr. Tyson with alacrity, “and I hope you will coöperate with us in urging him to stay here and follow the directions of the doctor.”