Chapter 6

Liz Williams sat by the unconscious detective's side, bathing his face with cold water. She pulled his blankets up more. Their patient kept throwing them off in his sleep. After warming up, Fenton Hardy had developed a high fever. About that time, the phone and the power were cut off due to the storm. But fortunately, the farmer had a wood stove to keep their house warm. They melted snow to have cold water to try to keep the detective's fever at bay.

John Williams stepped into the room, concern etching his ruddy features. He set another candle down on the dresser, adding a bit more light in the room.

They watched as Fenton Hardy tossed restlessly in his sleep. He mumbled, but the words were unintelligible.

They wondered how he had gotten out to their farm, wet as he was. They wondered if anyone was out there looking for him at this moment.

John Williams left the room to fetch more cold water. He prayed that Fenton Hardy would make it. He turned back toward to bedroom, hearing the detective's voice again.

"Fra…J…Joe…Fff…"

A pair of blue eyes regarded the room with wary curiosity. He didn't remember ever being in a room like this before. He could make out several lit candles around the room. He shifted his position slightly to relieve a cramped muscle. He had several layers of thick blankets tucked up to his chin and he was only wearing a pair of shorts. He was very confused now.

He rolled his head on the pillow and spotted a woman dozing in the chair beside him.

"Mighty glad to see you finally awake."

His eyes went to the door of the bedroom where a man stood, looking down at him, relief clearly written on his face. "I'm John Williams and that's my wife Liz," he said, indicating the woman, who was now sitting up straighter in the chair and blinking her eyes. "I found you unconscious in my barn early this mornin'. You've been mighty sick."

He remembered now. "Had an accident. Car went off the bridge. Swam…"

The man nodded. "We wondered how you had gotten so wet. But don't try to talk any more. You'd best get some food into you. Liz'll put on some soup. We're just glad you're alright Mr. Hardy."

Fenton Hardy indeed felt terribly weak. He remembered the events surrounding the accident but nothing after he had made it to the barn. He knew that he was lucky that the farmer had discovered him when he did or he might have frozen to death.

The woman named Liz had gotten up and given him a kind smile and left the room to put on the soup.

When the soup was at the right temperature, John propped the detective up with pillows and helped him to feed himself. Fenton couldn't eat much, but was welcoming every sip of the hot soup.

"What time is it?" the detective asked, remembering the farmer had said that he had found him that morning.

"Around eight o'clock p.m."

The detective stared.

"The storm last night was very bad and the electricity and phone lines are still down. The snow is mighty deep and it's still coming down. We live quite a distance from town and the roads haven't been plowed up here yet. As soon as I can, I'll get in touch with your family. Where did you have your accident?"

"On a bridge over a pond."

"Bridge?" The man and his wife looked at each other, surprised. "Why, the only bridge around here is over on Teak Road, and that's-" The big man looked at the detective in astonishment. "That's amazing," he said with a shake of his head. "That's a mighty good distance for someone to walk, soaked to the skin in a snowstorm. But we'd best not exhaust you. Why don't you get some sleep, you look awfully tired."

Fenton agreed and settled himself comfortably back under the covers. Before he drifted off to sleep, he could hear the movements of the couple who had saved his life in the kitchen. He welcomed sleep that took over his body in minutes.