"Coming towards us," was the doctor's verdict. "With any luck it'll take you both back to Questerham. It's your best chance of getting to bed tonight. Miss Vivian, you're shivering. Confound it all, it's enough to give you both pneumonia, hanging about on a night like this! What an old fool I've been!" "It couldn't be helped, could it?" said Grace. "There were no trains running after four o'clock, and we couldn't guess the weather would change so. And it isn't nearly so cold as it has been." "Have a cigarette?" said the doctor suddenly, lighting his own pipe. "It'll help you to keep warm." "Smoking in uniform is entirely out of order, but for this once--thank you," said Miss Vivian, with a slight laugh. The sound of a motor-bicycle became unmistakable, and the doctor advanced cautiously into the middle of the road. "Ahoy, there! Could you stop half a minute? We've had a spill. Two ladies here." "Is that Dr. Prince?" came a voice that made Char exclaim: "It's John Trevellyan!" The motor-bicycle, with its small side-car, drew up beside them. "Have you had a telephone message?" said John. "From Plessing? No. What's happened?" said the doctor sharply. The two men exchanged a look. Char came forward. "You'd better tell me," she said in her slow, deep drawl. "Cousin Joanna telephoned just before eight o'clock, but you must have started," John said gently. "She wanted to ask Dr. Prince to make as much haste as possible--and you." "My father?" "I'm afraid it's another stroke, my dear." The doctor asked a few rapid professional questions, and Grace came and stood near Char Vivian. "When you didn't come," said John, "Miss Bruce got anxious, and felt sure there'd been a spill. Cousin Joanna was upstairs, with him; I don't think she realized. So I brought the only thing I could get hold of. You can ride a motor-bike, doctor?" "Of course I can. But we can't leave two young ladies planted in a ditch, with that confounded machine of mine," said the doctor, his distress finding vent in irritability. "There's the side-car," said Grace. "Miss Vivian must go with you, doctor." "Can't we get your machine out of the ditch?" John suggested. "Not unless you're a Hercules," said the doctor crossly. He began to examine the motor-bicycle. "I can manage this all right, though no machine on earth will do anything but crawl on such a road. Miss Vivian, that will be our best plan." "Yes," said Char, very quietly. "And, Johnnie, can you look after Miss--er--Jones, and take her back to Questerham?" "Get in, Char," said Trevellyan. "I shall certainly look after Miss Jones, and bring her out to Plessing somehow or other. Your mother wants her. Send anything you can to meet us, doctor." "Right; but I'm afraid we can't count on meeting anything tonight, of all nights. Miss Jones, I'm so sorry. All right there?"