In an incredibly short time he pulled up in front of the hospital. Two orderlies were summoned, and soon Mr. Wernberg, placed on a stretcher, was being carried into the building. Once or twice his eyelids fluttered as though he were about to regain consciousness, but he did not seem to possess sufficient strength to accomplish that end. Two doctors hastily took him in charge, Sergeant Riley left word that he should be summoned the instant the patient was able to talk, and then Bob ran the car around to police headquarters. Sergeant Riley invited them all into his office and they discussed what their next move should be. A band passed by the door, several men in uniform followed behind on their way to the city square where they were to make speeches in order to urge more enlistments in the army and navy. Crowds of enthusiastic people trailed the procession, and Bob could not help wondering if the people realized that danger threatened the country from within as well as from without. Presently the car bearing the three detectives arrived at headquarters. They reported that nearby farmers had come to the scene of the fire, which was now in such condition that no harm could come from it. The farmers had promised to watch over the smouldering ruins, for ruins were now all that remained of the old house. Donovan once again related his story and then went off in search of a doctor to care for his burns. "It's bad business, Sergeant," said Mr. Cook. "It is," Riley agreed. "I'd like to get me hands on some of them fellows." "Seems queer that they should have blown up one of their own men." "'Twas probably a mistake. Perhaps they saw us coming and were in such a hurry that our friend Wernberg had no time to get away." "But look here," protested Bob. "Don't you remember what Donovan said that Mr. Wernberg said when he burst into the room?" "He said, 'they tried to blow me up,'" quoted Mr. Cook. "Exactly," exclaimed Bob. "Doesn't that seem queer to you?" "He was probably left there by mistake, as the sergeant says," said Mr. Cook. "But," Bob insisted, "the door was locked." The men looked at one another blankly. "I had forgotten that," said Sergeant Riley. "Well," insisted Bob, "I'd like to have that part of it explained to me. You don't suppose for a minute that Mr. Wernberg locked himself in, do you?" "I shouldn't think he would," Mr. Cook admitted. "But if he didn't do it, who did? That's what I'd like to know." "Mr. Wernberg wasn't the only man in the house, you know," said Bob. "Who else was there?" "Didn't Hugh and two of the detectives chase another man?" "Yez mean the fake detective?" asked Sergeant Riley. "I do." "But wasn't he in the same gang? What use would it be to him to blow up one of his own men?" "I don't know," said Bob. "Still I don't believe that Mr. Wernberg locked himself in and threw the key out of the window."