Slowly recovering consciousness, I found myself lying on the floor of a waiting-room, with a gentleman bending over me. Instantly recollecting what had occurred, I endeavoured to start up, but was obliged to fall back again.

 

“You must lie quiet sir,” said the gentleman. “You’re not much hurt. We will send you on, if you choose, by the train that is expected in a few minutes.”

 

“Is the elderly gentleman safe?” I asked eagerly.

 

“Which elderly gentleman? There were several in the train, but none are injured, I believe, though some are much shaken. Nobody has been killed. It has been quite a miraculous escape.”

 

“Merciful—call it merciful, my dear sir,” said I, looking upwards and thanking God with all my heart for sparing my life.

 

Two days after that I lay on the drawing-room sofa in Hoboy Crescent. Mr and Mrs McTougall had gone out. So had the children, the forenoon being fine. Edith had remained at home, for reasons which she did not see fit to divulge. She sat beside me with one of her hands in mine. It was all arranged between us by that time.

 

“Edith,” said I after a short pause in our conversation, “I have long wanted to tell you about a dear little old lady with whom Robin Slidder and I have had much to do. She’s one of my poor patients, whom I have not mentioned to you before, but I’ve heard something about her lately which makes me wish to ask your advice—perhaps your aid—in a rather curious search which I’ve been engaged in for a long time past.”

 

“I will go for my work, John, and you shall tell me all about it,” she replied, rising. “I shall be five or ten minutes in preparing it. Can you wait patiently?”

 

“Well, I’ll try, though of course it will be like a separation of five or ten years, but Dumps and I will solace each other in your absence.—By the way, touch the bell as you pass. I should like to see Robin, not having had a talk with him since the accident.”

 

When Robin appeared I asked him if he had seen the Slogger.

 

“No, sir, I ’aven’t,” replied Robin, with a somewhat cross look. “That there Slogger has played me false these two times. Leastwise, though he couldn’t ’elp it the fust time, he’s got to clear ’isself about the second.”

 

“You know where the Slogger lives, don’t you?” I asked.

 

“Oh yes, but it’s a long, long way off, an’ I durstn’t go without leave, an’ since you was blowed up i’ the train I’ve scarce ’ad a word with the doctor—he’s bin that busy through ’avin’ your patients on ’is ’ands as well as is own.”

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