He moved off down the alley, and Hessel, after a moment’s hesitation, followed him in silence. They turned into Lombard Street, both evidently wrapped in deep and probably anxious thought—so much so that Sir Garth, omitting for once the fixed habit of years, stepped into the roadway to cross the street without glancing over his shoulder at the traffic. As he did so, a motor-bicycle combination swooped from behind a van straight at him. With a violent start, Fratten awoke to his danger and stepped back on to the pavement, untouched, while the cyclist, with a glance back to see that all was well, sputtered on his way. But though there had been no collision, all was very far from being well. The banker took two or three shaky steps forward and then tottered to the inner side of the pavement and leant, gasping, against the wall. His face was very pale, and he pressed his hand against his chest. A crowd had gathered at the first sight of the unusual and now pressed closely round the sick man, adding its heedless quota to his distress. Hessel, who had come quickly to his companion’s side, did his best to drive off the sensation-vultures, but it was not till a majestic City policeman appeared that their victim was given a chance to breathe in comfort. After loosening his collar, the constable and Hessel guided Fratten into the office outside which the mishap had occurred. Quickly recovering himself and declining the manager’s offer to send for some brandy, Sir Garth brushed aside the constable’s desire to trace the motor-cyclist. “No, no. No need to make a fuss,” he said. “It was as much my fault as his, and anyway you people have got more important work to do than that. I’m quite all right now; it would have been nothing if I hadn’t happened to have a dicky heart. I’d like a taxi though. I shan’t come to the bank now, Leo; it’s getting late. Ask Ruslett to send me round the papers about that Hungarian issue to my house. I shall be there by five.” “But you’re going straight home, aren’t you?” exclaimed Hessel. “No, I told you I’d got a Hospital Board this afternoon. It’s nearly three now.” “But good heavens, man, are you out of your wits today? You’ve had a severe shock. You must get straight to bed and send for your doctor.” “Rubbish. I’m quite all right now. I must go to this Board meeting—I’m in the Chair and I’ve got to report on an amalgamation scheme. Besides, if I’m ill, what better place to go to than a hospital? They’ve even got a mortuary I believe, if the worst comes to the worst!” Fratten laughed at his companion’s harassed expression and took his arm. “Now then, lead me out to the ambulance, old man,” he said. Hessel watched his friend drive off in the taxi, and then turned and walked slowly off towards the bank, an anxious and very thoughtful expression on his face. The police-constable established himself against a convenient wall, took out his note-book and wetted his pencil. “At 2.45 p. m., I . . .” CHAPTER II