Jimmie sat. “Tell me the details.”
Heiffler reached for one of Jimmie’s cigarettes. “Compound fracture of both femurs. Set, now. Take traction. Three ribs busted. Both ankles more or less sprained.
Internal organs present and accounted for. No damage. Shaken up, bruised, contused, cut on knees. Shock—well, you can’t be sure. Some, anyway. Took ether perfectly. Asleep now. No lasting harm at all—to his body.” The intern’s brown eyes burned at Jimmie.
“Oh?”
“I rode the bus. Answered the call. Picked him off the street.”
“Was he conscious?”
“Semi.”
“Say anything?”
“He was laughing.”
“Laughing, eh.”