JACK DEVLIN IN ACTION
some people who would be very glad to do him harm."
The surgeon looked perturbed in his turn.
"I am fond of the youngster," said he. "He is not in fit condition to take care of himself. If you have reason to fret about him, suppose we try to look him up. Shall I telephone the Zone police department? Have you any clews?"
A solid foot-fall sounded on the screened porch, and the big frame of Jack Devlin, the steam-shovel man, loomed at the door. His pugnacious, redly tanned face beamed good-naturedly as he said in greeting:
"Howdy, Doc! I dropped in to see my young pal Goodwin, but he's not in the ward. What have you done with him? Is he all mended?"
"We have sort of mislaid him. This is his friend, Señor Alfaro. He can explain the circumstances."
Devlin gripped the slim fingers of the Colombian in his calloused paw and exclaimed:
"Glad to meet you. Goodwin told me how you played a star part in the one-act piece of the parrot and the broomstick. What's on your mind?"
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