“The Archduchess is naturally anxious,” the Archduke apologized. “By all means nurses. But another opinion--you must have confidence in yourself, my good friend.” “I have. But I want Sir Lawson Hunter to see the case.” The Archduke shrugged. “It is serious then, Dr. Fortune? We do not wish a great noise. Is it not so, Ianthe?” “I would give my soul to be quiet,” she cried. “Quite,” said Reggie. “Very well. Discretion, then, you understand, my good friend.” “I’ll telephone to Sir Lawson at once.” “Indeed? It is serious, then?” “It’s a bad concussion.” Reggie bowed and made for the door. “You--Dr. Fortune----” the Archduchess cried. “Will he--what will happen?” “There’s no reason we shouldn’t hope, madame,” Reggie said, and paused a moment watching them. Emotion plays queer tricks with faces. They were both in the grip of emotions. Sir Lawson Hunter is rather fat and his legs are rather short. His complexion is greyish and his eyes look boiled. People call him dyspeptic, though his capacious stomach has never known an ache: or imagine that he drinks, though alcohol and physicians are his chief abominations. His European reputation as a surgeon has been won by knowing his own mind. Reggie met him at the door and took him upstairs before that puzzling pair, the Archduke and the Archduchess, had a sight of him. “Glad you could come, sir. It’s an odd case.” “Every case is odd,” said Sir Lawson Hunter. “He was knocked down by a car. The--” “If he was, I can find it out for myself. Damme, Fortune, don’t bias me. Most unprofessional. That’s the worst of general practice. You fellows must always be saying something.” Reggie held his peace. He knew Sir Lawson’s little ways, having been his house surgeon. The faithful Holt was turned out of the room. Sir Lawson Hunter went over the senseless body with his usual speed and washed his hands. “Splendid animal,” he remarked. “They run to that, these Pragas. I remember his uncle’s abdominal muscles. Heroic. Well. He was walking. A big car driven fast hit him from behind on the right side, fractured two ribs, and knocked him down. Impact of his head on the road has caused a serious concussion. That car should have stopped.” Reggie smiled. “Oh, one of the odd things is that it didn’t.” “There’s a damned lot of road hogs about, my boy.” said Sir Lawson heartily. He was himself fond of high speed. “Well. They sent out, I suppose. Found him lying on his face unconscious.” “No, sir.” “What?” Sir Lawson jumped. “He was lying on his back.” “Oh, that’s absurd.” “Yes, sir. But I’ve seen his valet who found him.” “These fellows have no observation,” Sir Lawson grunted, but there was some animation in his boiled eye. “Damme, Fortune, he ought to have been on his face.” “Yes, sir.” “Miracles don’t happen.” “No, sir.” “Now these abrasions on the legs. As if the car had been driven at him again while he lay. A queer thing. Or have there been two cars at him?”