The next interval of remembrance begins with a sense of pain, a throbbing, savage pain, in my head and chest principally, and a wish that the buzzing in my ears would stop. It did not stop, on the contrary it grew louder and there was a squeak and rumble and rattle along with it. A head--particularly a head bumped as hard as mine had been--might be expected to buzz, but it should not rattle, or squeak either. Gradually I began to understand that the rattle and squeak were external and I was in some sort of vehicle, a sleeping car apparently, for I seemed to be lying down. I tried to rise and ask a question and a hand was laid on my forehead and a voice--the voice which I had decided was Hephzy's--said, gently: “Lie still. You mustn't move. Lie still, please. We shall be there soon.” Where “there” might be I had no idea and it was too much trouble to ask, so I drifted off again. Next I was being lifted out of the car; men were lifting me--or trying to. And, being wider awake by this time, I protested. “Here! What are you doing?” I asked. “I am all right. Let go of me. Let go, I tell you.” Again the voice--it sounded less and less like Hephzy's--saying: “Don't! Please don't! You mustn't move.” But I kept on moving, although moving was a decidedly uncomfortable process. “What are they doing to me?” I asked. “Where am I? Hephzy, where am I?” “You are at the hospital. You have been hurt and we are taking you to the hospital. Lie still and they will carry you in.” That woke me more thoroughly. “Nonsense!” I said, as forcefully as I could. “Nonsense! I'm not badly hurt. I am all right now. I don't want to go to a hospital. I won't go there. Take me to the hotel. I am all right, I tell you.” The man's voice--the doctor's, I learned afterward--broke in, ordering me to be quiet. But I refused to be quiet. I was not going to be taken to any hospital. “I am all right,” I declared. “Or I shall be in a little while. Take me to my hotel. I will be looked after, there. Hephzy will look after me.” The doctor continued to protest--in French--and I to affirm--in English. Also I tried to stand. At length my declarations of independence seemed to have some effect, for they ceased trying to lift me. A dialogue in French followed. I heard it with growing impatience. “Hephzy,” I said, fretfully. “Hephzy, make them take me to my hotel. I insist upon it.” “Which hotel is it? Kent--Kent, answer me. What is the name of the hotel?” I gave the name; goodness knows how I remembered it. There was more argument, and, after a time, the rattle and buzz and squeak began again. The next thing I remember distinctly is being carried to my room and hearing the voice of Monsieur Louis in excited questioning and command.