for his handkerchief, dizzily, and tried to bandage the wound.
This he never accomplished, for with a sudden little gasp he fainted
away, and fell prone across the oil-skinned lap of the big driver.

That astounded person drew up in alarm at the side entrance of a
street-corner saloon. He was on the point of repeating his sturdy call
for help, when a four-wheeler swung in beside his wagon-step, and
delivered itself of a square-shouldered, heavy-jawed figure, muffled to
the ears in a rain-coat. The newcomer took in the situation with a
rapid and comprehensive glance of relief.

"So there he is, at last!" he said, as he came forward and caught up
the relaxed and still unconscious figure.

"Where'd you get a license for buttin' in on this?" expostulated the
surprised driver.

"Buttin' in?" cried the man in the raincoat, as he lifted the limp
figure in his great, gorilla-like arms. "This isn't buttin' in--this
is takin' care o' my own friends!"

"Friend o' yours, then, is he?" queried the weakening driver.

"A friend o' mine!" cried the other angrily, for his man was already
safely in the cab. "You damned can-slinger, d'you suppose I'm wastin'
cab-fare doin' church rescue work? Of course he's a friend o' mine.

"And not only that," he added, under his breath, as he swung up into
the cab and gave the driver the number of Penfield's uptown house, "and
not only that--he's a friend o' mine who's worth just a little over a
quarter of a million to me!"

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE HUMAN ELEMENT

It was slowly, almost reluctantly, that Durkin returned to full and
clear-thoughted consciousness. Even before he had opened his eyes he
realized that he was in a hurrying carriage, for he could feel every
sway and jolt of the thinly cushioned seat. He could also hear the
beat of the falling rain on the hood-leather, and on the glass of the
door beside him, as he lay back in the damp odors of wet and sodden
upholstery.

Then he half-opened his eyes, slowly, and saw that it was MacNutt
beside him.

The discovery neither moved nor startled him; he merely let the heavy
lids fall over his tired eyes once more, and lay there, without a
movement or a sign.

Tatter by tatter he pieced together the history of the past few hours,
and as memory came tardily back to him he knew, in a dim and shadowy
way, that he would soon need every alertness of mind and body which he
could summon to his help. But still he waited, passive and