At that moment a little child, a fair-haired baby girl, escaped from her nursemaid, whose attention had been distracted by the extravagant golden livery of the footman, and toddled into the road just as the two hansoms swept round the corner. Mostyn saw the danger. With a shout he sprang forward and seized the little girl almost from under the horses' hoofs. He regained the curb, escaping almost by a miracle, but so quick had been his movements that, once out of danger, he slipped and fell, rolling over, his arm bent at an awkward angle beneath him. The nursemaid, wailing with fear, gathered the little child into her arms, but Mostyn lay where he had fallen till the two footmen and a policeman came to his assistance. He was not unconscious, and presently he moved and sat up. But his arm hung limply at his side and he realised a ghastly pain close to the shoulder. Yet he tried to smile reassuringly into the faces of those who were bending over him. "It's all right," he murmured. "I'm quite safe, but--but I think I've broken my arm." With which he promptly fainted away. They carried him back carefully into the house of David Isaacson. CHAPTER XIX. MOSTYN IS BETTER UNDERSTOOD. The company had assembled, as the year before, at Sir Roderick Macphane's house in Eaton Square for the drive to the Derby. There were some new faces, but for the greater part the party was the same as that which had been present on the occasion of "Old Rory's" victory. Lord Caldershot had arrived early, just the same immaculately dressed Lord Caldershot, with eye-glass in eye and inordinately tall collar, uncomfortably tight round his neck. He was enquiring diligently if Miss Rada Armitage was to be present that day, ready to declare himself as before, her cavalier, all the more proud of being so because "the little minx is going to win the Derby, by Jove! Fancy a girl of her age owning a Derby winner!" Rada was expected, and duly arrived, but Captain Armitage, who accompanied her, walked with the assistance of a stick, and had completely lost all his irresponsible gaiety of demeanour. He appeared morose and sullen, the result of a week or so of enforced abstinence from strong drink. He had, indeed, been very ill, and it was against the orders of the doctor that he had ventured out that day. But it was the Derby--Castor's Derby, Rada's Derby--and the temptation was too great for him. "Where is Mr. Clithero, my hated rival?" smiled Rada, as Pierce Trelawny approached and shook hands with her, freeing her for the moment from the attentions of the assiduous Caldershot. "Didn't you know?" Pierce shook his head sympathetically. "Poor Mostyn had a bad accident yesterday and broke his arm. He saved a little girl from being run over, with happy results as far as the child was concerned, but just the reverse for himself."