There the words ended, for the distraught horses shied backwards and sideways, and the fore wheel, swung outwards by the sharp turn, struck the little fellow and threw him down. Miss Durant attempted a warning cry, but it was too late; and even as it rang out, the carriage gave a jolt and then a jar as it passed over the body. Instantly came a dozen warning shouts and shrieks and curses, and the horses reared and plunged wildly, with the new fright of something under their feet. White with terror, the girl caught at the handle, but she did no more than throw open the door, for, as if they sprang from the ground, a crowd of men were pressing about the brougham. All was confusion for a moment; then the tangle of vehicles seemed to open out and the mob of people, struggling and gesticulating, fell back before a policeman while another, aided by some one, caught the heads of the two horses, just as the footman drew out from under their feet into the cleared space something which looked like a bundle of rags and newspapers. Thinking of nothing save that limp little body, Miss Durant sprang out, and kneeling beside it, lifted the head gently into her lap, and smoothed back from the pallid face the unkempt hair. “He isn’t dead, Wallace?” she gasped out. “I don’t think he is, Miss Constance, though he looks like he was bad hurt. An’, indeed, Miss Constance, it wasn’t Murdock’s fault. The coupé backed right into our pole without—” “Here,” interrupted a man’s voice from the circle of spectators, “give him this;” and some one handed to the girl the cup of a flask half full of brandy. Dipping her fingers into it, she rubbed them across the mouth and forehead; then, raising the head with one of her arms, she parted the lips and poured a few drops between them. “Now, mum,” suggested the policeman. “Just you let go of it, and we’ll lift it to where it can stay till the ambulance gets here.” “Oh, don’t,” begged Miss Durant. “He shouldn’t be moved until—” “Like as not it’ll take ten minutes to get it here, and we can’t let the street stay blocked like this.” “Ten minutes!” exclaimed the girl. “Isn’t it possible—We must get help sooner, or he—” She broke in upon her own words, “Lift him into my carriage, and I’ll take him to the hospital.” “Can’t let you, miss,” spoke up a police sergeant, who meantime had forced his way through the crowd. “Your coachman’s got to stay and answer for this.” “He shall, but not now,” protested Miss Durant. “I will be responsible for him. Wallace, give them one of my cards from the case in the carriage.” [Illustration: “Miss Durant sprang out and lifted the head gently”] The officer took the bit of pasteboard and looked at it. “That’s all right, miss,” he said. “Here, Casey, together now and easy.”