A week later Mr. Jenkins recovered consciousness in a beautiful clean ward of St. George’s Hospital.  A smiling nurse stood by his bed and, as he tried to sit up, she told him he must be quiet and not disturb the bandages.

“Your friend Mr. Baldwin is coming to see you to-day at two o’clock,” she told him.  “No, it is not serious; you are out of danger.  Now you have only to be quiet; so when your friend comes you mustn’t talk too much.”

He lay still and thought, and it all came back to him.  “But, good heavens!” was his reflection, “that car must have come in by the ‘Out’ gate!  In that case,” he continued, not without pleasure, “I can claim damages—­very severe damages too.”

At two o’clock Mr. Baldwin, his grey-bearded friend and partner, entered.  “Well, Jenkins,” said he, “I’m glad to see you’ve turned the corner.  You’ve had rather a narrow squeak.”

Mr. Jenkins looked at his friend for a moment.  “Look here,” he said, “I’m not allowed to speak much, but did you know that that car, when it struck me, was coming in through an ‘Out’ gate, and, as that can be proved, don’t you see that I can get pretty good compensation?”

His friend’s face remained solemn.  “I fear not,” he said.

“But I must,” said Jenkins.  “It’s as clear as can be.  Scores of people must have seen it.”

Mr. Baldwin shook his head horizontally.

“Heavy damages,” said Mr. Jenkins, “I repeat.”

“I’ve gone into it,” his partner replied, “and it’s hopeless.”

“Why?” asked the sick man.

“I’ll tell you,” said Mr. Baldwin.  “Because that car belonged to the Duke of Mudcaster.”

“The more reason,” said Mr. Jenkins, “for heavy damages.  Very heavy.  The Duke’s rolling.”

“Maybe he rolls,” said Mr. Baldwin.  “But that is not all.  Listen.  The Duke of Mudcaster is the only representative of the Pennecuiks, whose founder had the good fortune to be of some service to KING WILLIAM III.  For this service he and his posterity were allowed the privilege of entering places by gates marked ‘Out’ and leaving by gates marked ‘In.’”

Mr. Jenkins sat half up, groaned and subsided again.  He said nothing.

“Well, I must say good-bye now,” said Mr. Baldwin.  “Sorry I’ve depressed you about compensation, but you never had an earthly.  See you again soon.  So long.”

For some minutes Mr. Jenkins remained as one stunned.  Then he began to think again.  “I wonder,” he said once or twice, for he knew his partner,—­“I wonder.  Could it have been Baldwin himself in his old Ford?  Could it?”

* * * * *

[Illustration:  Old Lady (ruminating).  “WHAT A POOR SUPPLY OF GAS THERE IS!  AH, WELL, I MUSTN’T GRUMBLE.  PERHAPS WE ARE ATTACKING WITH GAS AT THE FRONT TO-DAY.” ]

* * * * *

Extract from a schoolboy’s letter:—­