John Dale had never been in a taxi-cab before, and when the kindly barrister had shaken his hand and told the driver the address, he lay back with a sigh of satisfaction on the luxurious cushions and resigned himself to enjoy his first drive. It was marvellous to him how the cab managed to dodge in and out of the heavy traffic; more than once the driver stopped with a jerk that nearly sent him off his seat, but he supposed this was the usual experience in London. Presently he saw a policeman ahead put up his hand, but the driver dashed on across the front of a big omnibus that was coming down at right angles from another street. In a moment there was a crash, he felt himself hurled into space and knew no more until he found himself lying in a strange bed, and saw a white-capped woman bending over him. "Are you feeling better now?" she asked. His head was aching, and when he raised his hand to it, he found it swathed in bandages: he closed his eyes and asked what had happened. "You must not talk, but just try and go to sleep," the nurse said. "You have met with an accident, but you will soon be all right." "Ah! I remember now! The taxi-cab. Yes!" And again he closed his eyes, and the nurse stole softly away. It was late the next morning when he awoke to find the doctor bending over him. "Well! You have had a good sleep," he said. "How are you feeling now?" "I am aching all over, but my head is better, thank you. Where am I?—and what time is it?" "You are in Charing Cross Hospital, and it is just half-past ten in the morning." Suddenly he remembered. This was the hour he ought to have been in Court to see his son’s honour cleared. "I must get up," he cried. "I have an important engagement, and am late already." The doctor smiled. "I am afraid that is impossible. You have broken your leg, and it will be several weeks before you will be able to walk again." He thought for a few moments, then asked if he could send a telegram. A form was brought him, and with a trembling hand he wrote the message. * * * * * The Court was packed from floor to ceiling when Rupert entered the dock between two warders. Not only were most of his fellow students present, but also a number of the chorus ladies from the Ingenue Theatre, who were sprinkled among the crowd, conspicuous by their bizarre hats and ultra-fashionable costumes. He at once noticed that his father was not at the counsels’ table, and wondered that he should be late. The jurymen were already in their places, and immediately, on the judge taking his seat, Mr. Marshall rose and opened the case for the defence.