more--all about the little
girl." The words dropped quietly into the sleeping ear and the boy
turned his face.

"To-morrow--tell--about--little girl..." he murmured--and was asleep.

Achilles passed swiftly out of the hospital--through the sun-glinting
wards, out to the free air--his heart choking him. At the corner, he
caught a car bound for the South side and boarded it.

And at the same moment Philip Harris, in his office in the works, was
summoning the Chief of Police to instruct him to open negotiations with
the kidnappers.

But Achilles reached the office first and before noon every member of
the force knew that a clue had been found--a clue light as a child's
breath between sleep and waking, but none the less a clue--and to-morrow
more would be known.

So Philip Harris stayed his hand--because of the muttered,
half-incoherent word of a Greek boy, drowsing in a great sunny ward, the
millionaire waited--and little children were safer that night.

XVII

PHILIP HARRIS WAKES UP

But the surgeon, the next morning, shook his head peremptorily. His
patient had been tampered with, and was worse--it was a critical
case--all the skill and science of modern surgery involved in it... the
brain had barely escaped--by a breath, it might be--no one could tell
... but the boy must be kept quiet. There must be no more agitation.
They must wait for full recovery. Above all--nothing that recalled the
accident. Let nature take her own time--and the boy might yet speak out
clearly and tell them what they wanted--otherwise the staff could not be
responsible.

It was to Philip Harris himself that the decree was given, sitting in
the consulting-room of the white hospital--looking about him with quick
eyes. He had taken out his cheque-book and written a sum that doubled
the efficiency of the hospital, and the surgeon had thanked him quietly
and laid it aside. "Everything is being done for the boy, Mr. Harris,
that we can do. But one cannot foresee the result. He may come through
with clear mind--he may remember the past--he may remember part of
it--but not the part you want. But not a breath must disturb him--that
is the one thing clear--and it is our only chance." His eyes were gentle
and keen, and Philip Harris straightened himself a little beneath them.
The cheque, laid one side, looked suddenly small and empty... and the
great stockyards were a blur in his thought. Not all of them together,
it seemed, could buy the s