"No news," day after day--day after day, till Harry was weary of repeating the words to the troubled father. Sergeant Falkner came often enough to repeat his story, that so far he had done everything possible; but that he had scent of something which he felt sure must turn out right. At last Harry was wandering one evening towards Decadia, he knew not why, he said, but it always appeared to him as if elucidation of the mystery must come from that direction; and though he would not own to it, he made this surmise his excuse for going often to Brownjohn Street, seeing Janet but seldom--Canau often--quite an intimacy having arisen between the latter and himself. Harry wandered thoughtfully on, till, nearing the end of St Martin's Lane, he started back, for from out of a busy street there came a sharp rattling of wheels, a shout, a dull heavy sound; then the customary rush of sight-seers till a crowd had collected. "There, that's the seccun' acciden' I've seen at that there corner with my own blessed eyes," said a man. "Them cabs comes cutting along fierce, never thinking as they've got anything to do but shout, and everybody's to get out o' the way in a instan'. If its panels as scratches, they pulls up; but if its human flesh and blood, drive on. It ought to be put a stop to--that it ought." There was a chorus of indignant acquiescent growls, though no one said what ought to be stopped; and Harry Clayton pressed forward through the swaying crowd, in the midst of which the shiny crown of a policeman's hat was to be seen. "Get a stretcher--Take him to the hospital--Poor creature!" exclaimed various voices; and then came a score of indignant commands: "Give him air!--Stand back, will yer!"--the speakers never seeing the necessity of themselves moving. "Why don't you look alive, and take him to the hospital!" exclaimed a strident voice again. "Non--non! chez moi--chez moi!" groaned the sufferer. "What's he say? He's foreign! Any one here understand Dutch? Anybody know who he is?" "I do," said Harry, pushing foward. "He wishes to be taken home," just as, half insensible, the sufferer babbled a few words in his native tongue, to which he seemed naturally to revert; and then, under the young man's guidance, poor Canau was borne to his lodgings, and a surgeon procured--one who came the more willingly upon Harry furnishing him with his address, and undertaking, if necessary, to defray all expense. "I did try to get away; but I was confused, and stumbled; and ah! ma belle patrie!" muttered Canau, "I shall see thee no more." For the surgeon had made his examination, bandaged, and done all that was possible to ease the sufferer, and then taken his departure. "I am hurt--much hurt," said Canau, feebly, as he reached out a withered hand to Harry; "but I should like just once--"