After the first frenzied moment, it became evident that, although badly shaken up, the passengers had received no injuries, except such bruises as they had inflicted upon each other in their mad struggle to escape. By this time a crowd had collected about the overturned cab, and several more policemen had come to the assistance of the first one, who was now seated serenely upon the head of the cab-horse, a precaution seemingly superfluous, for the poor beast, though uninjured, appeared to be quite satisfied to rest where he lay until he should be forced once more to resume the grind of his unhappy existence. The cabman had been rudely shaken by his fall. He had lain as though unconscious for the space of a few seconds; then, with assistance, he had managed to struggle to his feet. He stood now as though dazed by the shock, trying to understand what had happened. "Are you hurt?" inquired one of the policemen. The man, mumbling an unintelligible reply, raised his hand to a scalp wound from which the blood was flowing rather freely. At that moment two men forced their way through the crowd which a circle of policemen had some difficulty in keeping at a distance from the wounded cabman. One was a middle-aged individual, who gave his name as Doctor Thurston and offered his services as a physician; the other was a young man with keen gray eyes, who said nothing, but exhibited a reporter's badge. The physician at once turned his attention to the cabman; felt him, thumped him, pinched him; smelt his breath; and then delivered his verdict: "No bones broken. The slight scalp wound doesn't amount to anything. The man has been drinking heavily. He is simply drunk." The horse had by this time been unharnessed and the cab had been lifted upon its wheels again. The reporter stood by a silent and apparently listless spectator of the scene. Doctor Thurston turned to him: "Come along, Sturgis; neither you nor I are needed here; and if we do not hurry, Sprague's dinner will have to wait for us. It is a quarter to eight now." The reporter seemed about to follow his friend, but he stood for an instant irresolute. "I say, Doctor," he inquired at last, "are you sure the man is drunk?" "He has certainly been drinking heavily. Why?" "Because it seems to me----Hello, we cannot go yet; the passenger is more badly hurt than the driver." "The passenger?" queried the physician, turning in surprise to the policeman. "What passenger?" asked the policeman, looking at the cabman. "Have you a passenger inside, young feller?" "Naw," replied the cabman, who seemed to be partially sobered by the shock and loss of blood. "Naw, I aint got no fare, barrin' the man wot was on the box." The reporter observed the man closely as he spoke; and then, pointing to the step of the cab, which was plainly visible in the glare of a neighboring electric lamp: "I mean the passenger whose blood is trickling there," he said quietly.