he car swung round
and started off, was like new life to him. He closed his eyes. When he
opened them again, they had come to a standstill underneath a red lamp.

"The doctor's!" he muttered to himself, and, staggering out, rang the
bell.

Dr. Spencer Whiles had had a somewhat dreary day, and was thoroughly
enjoying a late rubber of bridge with three of his most agreeable
neighbors. A summons into the consulting room, however, was so
unexpected a thing that he did not hesitate for a moment to obey it,
without even waiting to complete a deal. When he entered the apartment,
he saw a slim but determined-looking young man, whose clothes were
covered with dust, and who, although he sat with folded arms and grim
face, was very nearly in a state of collapse.

"You seem to have met with an accident," the doctor remarked. "How did
it happen?"

"I have been run over by a motor car," his patient said, speaking slowly
and with something singularly agreeable in his voice notwithstanding its
slight accent of pain. "Can you patch me up till I get to London?"

The doctor looked him over.

"What were you doing in the road?" he asked.

"I was riding a bicycle," the other answered. "I dare say it was my own
fault; I was certainly on the wrong side of the road. You can see what
has happened to me. I am bruised and cut; my side is painful, and also
my knee. A car is waiting outside now to take me to my home, but I
thought that I had better stop and see you."

The doctor was a humane man, with a miserable practice, and he forgot
all about his bridge party. For half an hour he worked over his patient.
At the end of that time he gave him a brandy and soda and placed a box
of cigarettes before him.

"You'll do all right now," he said. "That's a nasty cut on your leg, but
you've no broken bones."

"I feel absolutely well again, thank you very much," the young man said.
"I will smoke a cigarette, if I may. The brandy, I thank you, no!"

"Just as you like," the doctor answered. "I won't say that you are not
better without it. Help yourself to the cigarettes. Are you going back
to London in the motor car, then?"

"Yes!" the patient answered. "It is waiting outside for me now, and I
must not keep the man any longer. Will you let me know, if you please,
how much I owe you?"

The doctor hesitated. Fees were a rare thing with him, and the evidences
of his patient's means were somewhat doubtful. The young man put his
hand into his pocke