His head was aching, and when he raised his hand to it, he found it swathed in bandages: he closed his eyes and asked what had happened.
"You must not talk, but just try and go to sleep," the nurse said. "You have met with an accident, but you will soon be all right."
"Ah! I remember now! The taxi-cab. Yes!" And again he closed his eyes, and the nurse stole softly away.
It was late the next morning when he awoke to find the doctor bending over him.
"Well! You have had a good sleep," he said. "How are you feeling now?"
"I am aching all over, but my head is better, thank you. Where am I?—and what time is it?"
"You are in Charing Cross Hospital, and it is just half-past ten in the morning."
Suddenly he remembered. This was the hour he ought to have been in Court to see his son's honour cleared.
"I must get up," he cried. "I have an important engagement, and am late already."
The doctor smiled. "I am afraid that is impossible. You have broken your leg, and it will be several weeks before you will be able to walk again."