Farnum led his young friends, as heretofore, to the Somerset House.

“We might possibly meet Rhinds in the lobby, or in the dining room,” said the shipbuilder, “but I don’t deem it likely.  Rhinds is undoubtedly keeping hid within his own walls upstairs.”

This guess proved to be a good one.  Farnum and his friends dined at the Somerset without being offended by a sight of the face of their rival in business.

A special waiter was stationed to head off reporters or other curious people who might attempt to interview the submarine diners.  So the meal proceeded in peace, though it was rather late when the diners finished.

“Whew!  Nearly nine o’clock,” muttered Farnum, glancing up at a big clock on a near-by wall.  “And I haven’t been out to the hospital, to-day, to see how Dave is coming along.”

“Would it do to telephone, and ask the hospital people to let Mr. Pollard know you had inquired?” suggested Hal.

“Don’t just like that idea,” replied Mr. Farnum, shaking his head.  “It doesn’t sound just like using Dave Pollard right.  I’ll tell you what, however.  I’ve been the only one to go out to the hospital, so far.  Dave always asks after the rest of you.  Jack, suppose you take a hack and make the trip out.  If they won’t let you see Dave at this hour, then inquire how he is getting along, and leave your card to be sent in to him.  But, if you can see Dave Pollard, he’ll be delighted to have a look at your face.  There’s a cab standing out in front of the hotel, and it won’t take you but a few minutes to get out to the hospital.”

“Where’ll I find you?” asked Jack, rising at once.

“We’ll wait in the lobby of the hotel until you get back.  Use the cab both ways.”

There was, as Mr. Farnum had said, a cab outside the hotel.  That cab, in fact, had been hanging about since just before dark.

Most of the time it stood drawn up at the curb on the opposite side of the street.

Three or four times, during the early evening, different persons had tried to engage the use of this cab.

Yet, to each prospective customer, the driver had shaken his head, uttering the one word: 

“Engaged.”

So the cab still waited, the driver occasionally moving to a somewhat new position, though always keeping well in sight of the hotel entrance.

As Captain Jack Benson stepped out through the broad doorway, however, on his errand of friendship, the driver, throwing away a half-smoked cigar, suddenly whipped up his horse, driving close to the entrance.

“Cab, sir” hailed the driver.  “To any part of the city.”

“You know where the hospital is?” inquired Jack Benson.

“Oh, yes.”

“How long will it take to drive me there?”

“Ten or twelve minutes.”

“All right.  And I shall want you to wait there, a little while, and then bring me back.  How much will that be?”