In another minute he was elegantly flying down Bycars Lane, guiding his own bicycle with his right hand and the crock with his left hand.  The feat appeared miraculous to Rachel, who watched from the bow-window of the parlour.  Beyond question he made a fine figure.  And it was for her that he was flying to Hanbridge!  She turned away to her domesticity.

II

It seemed to her that he had scarcely been gone ten minutes when one of the glorious taxicabs which had recently usurped the stand of the historic fly under the Town Hall porch drew up at the front door, and Louis got out of it.  The sound of his voice was the first intimation to Rachel that it was Louis who was arriving.  He shouted at the cabman as he paid the fare.  The window of the parlour was open and the curtains pinned up.  She ran to the window, and immediately saw that Louis’ head was bandaged.  Then she ran to the door.  He was climbing rather stiffly up the steps.

“All right!  All right!” he shouted at her.  “A spill.  Nothing of the least importance.  But both the jiggers are pretty well converted into old iron.  I tell you it’s all right!  Shut the door.”

He bumped down on the oak chest, and took a long breath.

“But you are frightfully hurt!” she exclaimed.  She could not properly see his face for the bandages.

Mrs. Tams appeared.  Rachel murmured to her in a flash—­

“Go out the back way and fetch Dr. Yardley at once.”

She felt herself absolutely calm.  What puzzled her was Louis’ shouting.  Then she understood he was shouting from mere excitement and did not realize that he shouted.

“No need for any doctor!  Quite simple!” he called out.

But Rachel gave a word confirming the original order to Mrs. Tams, who disappeared.

“First thing I knew I was the centre of an admiring audience, and fat Mrs. Heath, in her white apron and the steel hanging by her side, was washing my face with a sponge and a basin of water, and Heath stood by with brandy.  It was nearly opposite their shop.  People in the tram had a rare view of me.”

“But was it the tram-car you ran into?” Rachel asked eagerly.

He replied with momentary annoyance—­

“Tram-car!  Of course it wasn’t the tram-car.  Moreover, I didn’t run into anything.  Two horses ran into me.  I was coming down past the Shambles into Duck Bank—­very slowly, because I could hear a tram coming along from the market-place—­and just as I got past the Shambles and could see along the market-place, I saw a lad on a cart-horse and leading another horse.  No stirrups, no saddle.  He’d no more control over either horse than a baby over an elephant.  Not a bit more.  Both horses were running away.  The horse he was supposed to be leading was galloping first.  They were passing the tram at a fine rate.”

“But how far were they off you?”