'We really had better walk,' she was saying again, when the crowd round them was suddenly thrown into a state of disturbance and excitement, and they were pushed backwards against the wall. 'Oh, dear, what is it?' she cried. 'Look out, miss!' said a rough-looking man, in a fur cap, catching her shoulders, and pulling her back so violently that her hand was torn from her father's arm, and at the same moment the crowd separated to right and left. Then she saw what it was. A pair of spirited carriage horses had either taken fright, or had grown tired of the commonplace routine of wood pavement and asphalte, and had decided to try a short cut home through the houses, utterly regardless of the coachman, who was straining with might and main at the reins. Their dreadful prancing hoofs were half-way across the pavement, and the pole of the carriage was close to someone's chest--good heavens! her father's--and he, standing there bewildered, seemed not to see it. She would have sprung forward, but the rough man held her back. 'Papa! papa!' she screamed, and at the sound of her voice he started, and seemed to see for the first time what threatened him. He saw it too late--the pole was within six inches of his breast-bone. But someone else had seen it to more purpose, and at that instant the head of the off horse was caught in a grasp of iron, and the pair were dragged round, to the imminent danger of some score of lives, while the carriage was forced back on to a hansom cab, whose driver disappeared into the night in a cloud of blasphemy. 'Well, I'm damned!' remarked the gentleman in the fur cap, who had snatched the girl out of danger; 'it's the nearest shave as ever I see.' It had been a near shave; but the old gentleman was unhurt, though considerably flustered, and immeasurably indignant. 'Hurt? No, I'm not hurt--no thanks to that fool of a driver; such idiots ought to be hanged. But I ought to thank the gentleman who saved me.' As he spoke the young man came forward deadly pale and without a hat. 'I do hope you're not hurt,' he said, in a singularly low, soft voice, speaking with a little catching of the breath. It was he who had leaned against the wall in the theatre. His hands were evidently good for something better than twisting tobacco. 'I hope the pole did not touch you? I am afraid I was hardly quick enough, but I couldn't get through the people before.' 'My dear sir, you were quick enough to save me from being impaled against this wall; but I really feel quite upset. I must get my daughter home. She looks rather queer.' She was holding his arm tightly between her hands. 'Do let's go home,' she whispered. 'I'll get you a cab,' said the hero. 'You'll probably get one easily now the mischief's done.' 'He's lost his hat,' observed the rescued one, as the other disappeared. 'Do you feel very bad, my pet? Pull yourself together. Here he comes.'