Page:Arthur Stringer - The Hand of Peril.djvu/93

 along the top of his bare head, where the hair was matted and wet and still warm to the touch.

"And what feels like a bullet-scrape along my bump of veneration," gently added the Secret Agent.

"Then we must get to a hospital!" cried out the suddenly perturbed Wilsnach.

"Not on your life," was Kestner's answer as they went rattling down through the narrow streets.

"Then where in the name of God are we going?" Wilsnach suddenly demanded.

"We're going to the water-front, where we can find a boatman!"

"A boatman?" echoed Wilsnach.

"A boatman to get us out to the Pannonia," was Kestner's thin-timbered but resolute response. "For we're going to America, old man, and we're going on the same boat with the Lamberts!"