The threshold of ringing in his ears diminished and his field of vision increased as the darting lights went away, and Paul Grayson then could hear the sound of running feet and the babble of voices. "What happened?" "This man was clipped by a thug." "You saw it?" came the voices in a mad garble of scrambled speeches. "Right in front of my eyes." The babble broke into many and varied subjects. Curiosity, both morbid and Samaritan; anger both righteous and superficial, but both directed at the things that make such happenings possible; suggestions both sensible and absurd, and offers both welcome and ridiculous. Paul groaned and tried to lift his hand to the raw spot on his chin where the sidewalk had removed some hide. The woman looked down at him and smiled in a wan, apprehensive manner. "You're all right?" Paul struggled to sit up and made it with her help. The wave of pain rose and localized in his head at about forty degrees right latitude. It made him want to carry his head at an angle with his neck ducked down below the level of the knot of pain. Hands helped him to his feet, led him across the sidewalk while he became stronger by the moment. He shook his head to clear it and winced as the motion caused the knot of pain to vibrate nastily. "What happened?" he asked in a quavering voice. It sounded like someone else's voice to him, and surprised at the sound of it he repeated the question. It still sounded like someone else's voice and while he was wondering if his voice would sound like that for the rest of his life, the girl explained what had happened. Paul missed most of it, but then asked another question: "Did you see him?" "No," she said. Her voice was regretful, yet tinted with a dash of amusement. "He sort of rose out of the shadow behind you--you're a tall man, you know. All I saw was a ragged silhouette. He hit you. You fell. I screamed. He grabbed at your wallet----" Her voice trailed away unhappily. Paul smiled. "Nothing in it but personal papers all replaceable. Not more than a few dollars. I'd have handed it over rather than get this clip on the skull. Too bad you couldn't see him." The touch of amusement came again. "I had my eyes closed, sort of." Paul smiled again. Inwardly he was welcoming the footpad to the contents of his wallet and accepting the bop on the bean as the price to pay for an introduction to the girl. Someone in the crowd said: "You'd better come inside until you feel all right." Paul shook his head and was happy to find that the knot inside had diminished to a faint pinpoint. His voice was sounding more like his own, too. "I've got to go," he said. "But----" The wail of sirens came and a police car dashed to the curb. It spilled policemen from all doors, who came warily. "What's going on here?" demanded the sergeant. Paul explained. "You'd better come to the station and lodge a complaint."