“Mr. Jacobson!” exclaimed Frank.
“Why, hello there, Frank Hardy!” said the man. “What brings you away out here? Hello, Joe. And who have you with you? Chet and Biff, or I’m a Dutchman. What’s up now?”
The man was a Bayport merchant, a close friend of Fenton Hardy.
Swiftly, the boys explained the situation to him. Jacobson soon realized the importance of the matter, and readily consented to take Captain Royal to Bayport with him.
“Absolutely!” he said. “It’s no trouble to me. I was going to Bayport, anyway, and it won’t hurt if I put on a little extra speed. How about you chaps?”
“Joe and Chet and I have our motorcycles,” said Frank. “Biff will go with you, and look after the captain.”
“Righto! We’ll make it in good time, I fancy.”
The Hardy boys and their chums thereupon thanked the fisherman for his trouble. He seemed relieved that he was not called on to make the long journey into Bayport.
“Write and let me know how the old gentleman gets along,” he requested before he left the boys. “I hope he recovers all right.”
The boys promised that they would do so. Then the Hardy boys and Chet mounted their motorcycles, Biff got into the automobile with Mr. Jacobson to look after Captain Royal in the back seat, and they started off.
Frank and Joe often talked of that wild ride back to the city. Jacobson’s car was big and powerful and he wasted no time on the road. They realized that the matter was urgent and that it was necessary for Captain Royal to receive medical attention as soon as possible, so they paid little attention to the speed laws. The big car roared along the Shore Road, and the motorcycles clattered on behind.
“We should be there by midnight, at this rate,” grunted Joe, as they sped around a curve.
“We’re going back a lot quicker than we left,” replied his brother.
At length they came within sight of the twinkling lights of Bayport. The roar of the big automobile did not diminish. At breakneck speed they clattered into the city limits.
In the back seat of the car, Biff turned frequently to look at the unconscious form beside him. To his relief, Captain Royal was still breathing.
“I think the old chap will pull through all right,” he said to himself.
Up a dark, quiet street sped the car, then came to a stop before a massive stone house with a neat gilt plate beside the door. The motorcycles roared up and the boys dismounted.
“We’ll take him in and let the doctor have a look at him,” said Mr. Jacobson. “If he is in bad shape, the doc will put him in his own private hospital. He’ll get the best of care here.”
Carefully, they carried Captain Royal up the steps. Their ring was answered by a servant, and they took the old man into a waiting room. The doctor, who had been in bed, soon came downstairs in pyjamas and dressing gown.
“An accident case, Doctor,” explained Frank. “This old man fell off a cliff into the sea and he’s been unconscious for eight or nine hours.”
The doctor made a swift examination. His frown deepened as he inspected the cut on Captain Royal’s temple.
“Queer!” he said. “It isn’t a very bad cut, and there seems to be no sign of a fracture. It looks like concussion of the brain, to me, but he doesn’t appear to have had a very hard blow.”
“The waves washed him up against the rocks,” said Joe.
The doctor shook his head.
“He seems in a bad way. Eight hours, you said?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll have to give him a more detailed examination. I’ll admit him as a patient to my own hospital if you people will be responsible for him.”
“That’s all right, Doctor. Do what you can for him and send the bill to us,” said Frank promptly.
The doctor rang a bell. An attendant appeared, wheeling a long, white table. Captain Royal was placed upon it and wheeled away.
“I’ll let you know in the morning,” promised the doctor. “Frankly, I don’t mind telling you he’s in bad shape. He may never regain consciousness again.”
The boys were sobered by the thought that Captain Royal, for all his eccentricities, might be dying as a result of his wild dash over the rocks. Slowly they filed out into the street, bade goodbye to Mr. Jacobson and thanked him for his assistance, then went home. As Chet Morton lived out in the country, the Hardy boys invited him to spend the rest of the night with them. He accepted the invitation gladly, for the prospect of a long trip out of the city had not appealed to him. Biff Hooper, who lived near by, went to his own home.
The house was in darkness when they arrived, so the Hardy boys and Chet quietly parked their motorcycles, slipped up the back stairs and were soon in bed. They were so tired after their adventures of the day that in spite of the temptation to discuss matters, sleep soon overcame them.
XXIV
At the Hospital
Next morning, refreshed by their sleep, Frank, Joe and Chet were downstairs early, but not earlier than Fenton Hardy, who was already busy in his office clearing up some work before breakfast. He welcomed them cheerily.
“Back so soon!” he exclaimed. “I thought this trip would keep you away at least a week. What’s the matter? Did you get frightened by the sea serpent?”
“We didn’t get frightened, Dad. We had to come back with a man who got hurt.”
“Oh.” Fenton Hardy’s expression changed to one of concern. “Who is he?”
“We think he’s Todham Todd.”
“Todham Todd!” exclaimed the detective. “Are you sure?”
“We are not sure. But we have an idea that’s who he is. And he may be a murderer too.”
Mr. Hardy motioned the three boys to chairs. “Sit down and tell me all about it.
