“Master Hawkes, can you hear me? Are you all right?”“Master Hawkes, can you hear me? Are you all right?”
Andy groggily opened his eyes. He was in his bedroom and Henry was leaning over him with a worried look on his face.
“What am I doing here? I’m dead … or at least I should be. I was shot … Grandfather … How’s Grandfather?”
A stout, balding man with a black bag moved to the side of the bed. “Young man, I can’t find anything wrong with you. You weren’t shot. You just fainted.”
Andy tried to sit up. “I might have fainted too. But I know I was shot.” He looked down at the place on his chest where the bullet had hit him. There was nothing there. Not even a mark. “But how …? I mean, I was hit. I felt it.”
The doctor turned to Henry. “The shock of seeing his grandfather killed has traumatized the boy. Better keep him in bed a few days. Here’s a prescription for a tranquilizer if he should need it.”
“Killed? Is Grandfather dead?”
Henry swallowed. “When the police came they found me gagged and tied up in the pantry. They released me and I immediately took them to the laboratory … but it was too late. Mr. Hawkes was gone, and you were lying over him, passed out.”
The doctor patted Andy’s arm comfortingly. “I wouldn’t allow the police to question the boy for at least twenty-four hours. He needs time to get over the shock.”
Henry walked the doctor to the door. “Don’t worry. I shall take the utmost care of him. His grandfather would have wished it. He is the last of the Hawkeses.”