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Updated: June 3, 2025
"That's all bosh!" exclaimed Larry. "That's what I think," the city editor said. "Now get on the job, Larry, and arrange to give us a good story for to-morrow. Keep watch of Retto, and as soon as the doctors will let you see him try again, though of course it may not be for several days." Larry was all at sea.
It is sometimes the custom in New York, in accident cases, to allow reporters to interview the victims, when their physical condition admits of it. So it was no new thing for Larry to go into the hospital ward to speak to Retto. He passed through rows of white cots, on which reclined men in all stages of disease and accident.
In an instant the white-suited surgeon had leaped out of the back of the vehicle before it had stopped, and was kneeling beside Retto. With deft fingers he felt of the wound on the man's head. "Possible fracture," he said in a low voice. "Double one of the leg, I'm afraid," as he glanced at that member. "Lend a hand, boys, and we'll get him on the stretcher."
"If I was only stronger!" said Retto. "I'm so weak that I couldn't walk another block. I'd like to get after those scoundrels who have Mr. Potter!" "I'll get after them!" cried the youthful newspaper man, thinking more of Grace just then than he did of his assignment. "Tell me where to go!" "I can only tell you where Mr. Potter was hiding," went on Retto.
She came here expecting, as I did, to meet her father. I thought you were Mr. Potter. She says you are not." "No, I am not," replied the man. "Then who are you? Where is her father? You know! I am sure of it!" Larry was upset over the mistake he and the detective had made. "I did know where Mr. Potter was," and as he made that answer Retto gave every evidence of being under a great strain.
He was up early the next morning, and wrote out the story of the day's events, including the encounter with Sullivan, and the chase after Retto. He touched as lightly as possible on his own and Grace's parts in the affair, but there was enough to make interesting reading, and he knew no other paper would have it. "This is good stuff, Larry," complimented Mr.
Retto's handwriting was very similar to that of Mr. Potter's, and easily passed for it, even under the scrutiny of Grace and her mother. The man himself bore a remarkable resemblance to the millionaire and nearly deceived Grace once. Most unexpectedly, some of Mr. Potter's enemies got on the trail of Retto, and he learned they would be waiting for him when he landed in New York.
There were willing enough helpers, and Retto was soon in the ambulance and on the way to the hospital, the doctor clinging to the back of the swaying vehicle as it dashed through the streets, with the right of way over everything on wheels. "Here's news in bunches," thought Larry, as he saw the ambulance disappearing around a corner. "I must telephone this in, and I guess it will be a beat.
"I believe it is," Larry added, and he was honest in that statement, for he felt that Retto was playing some deep game, and, in that case, would not be likely to use his right name. "We don't want our records wrong," the head of the hospital resumed. "We'll wait until he can tell us about himself."
As Larry came in sight of the cabin he saw the raft, on which the stranger had come ashore, lying just beyond high-water mark. He entered the hut, expecting to see Retto, as he had come to call the foreigner, sitting comfortably by the fire. But the rescued man was not there. Nor was he in the room where he had been put to bed. "Maybe he's in the woodshed," thought Larry. "I'll take a look."
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