"One of the boys."
"Both are at the "ospital, sir."
"Do you think he will live?"
"An" "ow could I say, sir?"
Ferguson called the Medical Center. They permitted him to talk to a doctor and a nurse. The nurse referred him to the doctor, who said:
"He is unconscious. There is a wicked fracture at the base of the brain. He was struck from the back-a club, I believe. He may die without regaining consciousness. I am hoping he will rally and that he will be all right."
Ferguson ordered his car and, with Lees at his heels, jumped in the tonneau. He heard a humming sound back of him. He looked back and saw nothing. Both he and Lees were too impressed for words.
"Step on it," Ferguson ordered the chauffeur. "Drive us to the Medical Center."
At the world"s largest group of hospitals, Ferguson"s worst fears were confirmed. The patient was reported sinking.
Ferguson, giant of Wall Street, was a low spirited man as he drove back down town to his office. With Lees he pa.s.sed through the outer offices, buzzing with business and the click of typewriters. Not a head was raised from a desk or machine. It was a well-drilled force.
Into his private sanctum he walked or rather dragged himself, and wearily he sat down. He pushed a pile of papers from him and ran his hand over his hot brow.
Blood pounded at his temples.
For the first time in his life he faced a situation which was too deep for his understanding.
Over and over again he reviewed the uncanny events as Lees sat awaiting orders.
"I cannot have them killing off my friends like that," he mused finally.
He called a clerk.
"Go to the bank and get $200,000 in fifties and one hundreds," he commanded.
When the clerk returned with the money he laid the package on his desk and left the desk open. "This might appear cowardly, but it will give us time," he said. Lees did not offer an opinion.
Ferguson drew a personal note for $200,000 and sent it to the Schefert Corporation"s attorneys. This amount represented a large part of Ferguson"s personal a.s.sets, not involved with any company with which he was connected. He told Lees to go about his further investigations. Then he left the office and started for his home. "I"ll bank my life Lees will have those crooks lined up within a week," he a.s.sured himself as he lolled in his auto, bound homeward. But his voice sounded hollow, and the blood still pounded at his temples.
Reaching home, he found a call from the western plant, at Chicago. He phoned the superintendent with a foreboding that all was not well.
"This you, Perk?" sounded the voice on the wire.
"Yes, what"s up?"
"I had not intended bothering you with this, but in the light of all that has happened I guess you had better know that one of our engineers went stark mad out here about three weeks ago. He was a very brainy man but his reason snapped. He first appeared queer when he began talking of anarchy and cursing capitalists. Then one afternoon he struck a shop foreman down with a heavy wrench and rushed out of the plant. We have not seen him since. The police have been looking for him, but he is still at large."
"That explains a lot of things," said "Old Perk." "Tell the police to keep after him. We"ll look for him here. File me a complete detailed report of the incident by telegraph," he instructed. Then he asked:
"How is the foreman? Badly hurt?"
"He dodged; it was a glancing blow. The foreman was back to work in a week. But he is nervous and has armed himself. We have put on extra guards."
"Good," commended Ferguson. "Don"t hesitate to spend tolls to keep me advised of any developments."
An hour and a half later, Ferguson phoned the chief clerk in his offices:
"Go into my private office," he ordered, "and see if there is a package on my desk. It is a bank package."
The clerk returned in a few moments.
"There is no package on your desk, Mr. Ferguson."
"That is all I wanted to know," said Ferguson, and hung up the receiver.
Then Ferguson called up the Darrow home and tried to get in touch with Lees, but was unable to do so, as Mrs. Darrow said she had not seen him since he had been called back to the office.
The reason Ferguson could not reach Lees was because Lees had decided to learn once and for all if Jouret wore number nine shoes. He had started for Jouret"s in his own car. It was a beautiful country he was traversing, but he had no time to note that the tree branches almost met over his head and that his way was bordered with a profusion of wild flowers, displaying a rainbow of colors.
The house of Jouret, the retired circus performer, sat back far from the road, against the side of a beautiful hill, and was surrounded by poplars. The landscape was wilder and more natural than that of the Darrow place adjoining.
The door was opened by a Porto Rican boy. Lees lost no time. He said bluntly:
"Tell your master that a gentleman is here to see him on very particular business."
Jouret, himself, came back with the boy.
"What is it?" he asked, smiling a welcome.
"I am working on the case of the death of Mr. Darrow, your neighbor. I believed you might have seen something. I thought you might aid me."
Jouret betrayed no surprise.
"Come in," he said. He led the way to a large reception room and asked his visitor to be seated. He was the soul of affability. Short, husky and florid. His eyes large, black and staring. His hair black, quite long and curling upward at the ears. He was dressed in black, and he had the appearance of a big, fat crow.
"I am glad you came," he greeted his guest, "for I have far too few callers." He switched on a big electric bunch-light in the center of the room, for it was dusk.
"We have been told that you are a retired circus man," said Lees, in his usual frank manner.
"Not exactly," said Jouret. "I traveled on the continent, finally journeying to Australia and then to the States. I crossed the country from San Francisco and settled down here. I was known as "Elias, the Great." I had my own company and property. It was a magic show. It was not a circus, although we did carry two elephants, three camels, some ponies, snakes, and birds and smaller animals. That"s where the circus report came from.
"When I retired I sold my stock to a circus. The newspapers regarded it as funny, and one of them printed a half page story with pictures about the public sale. It was very much exaggerated. They mentioned giraffes, hyenas, and a lot of other animals I never possessed. Odd, wasn"t it, getting so much publicity after I was through needing it? However I never, in those days, dodged the limelight." Jouret ended his speech with a loud and hearty guffaw.
"I will call my daughter," Jouret appended. "She will be glad to meet you." He left the room.
Lees had taken occasion to note the size of Jouret"s feet. They were small, almost effeminate. More likely fives or sixes than nines.
Soon Jouret returned with a girl in her early twenties. She was blond and radiantly beautiful.
Doris Jouret bowed and smiled in a perfectly friendly manner. Lees noted that there was something about her eyes that made her appear dazed.