It had been a near shave; but the old gentleman was unhurt, though considerably flustered, and immeasurably indignant.
'Hurt? No, I'm not hurt—no thanks to that fool of a driver; such idiots ought to be hanged. But I ought to thank the gentleman who saved me.'
As he spoke the young man came forward deadly pale and without a hat.
'I do hope you're not hurt,' he said, in a singularly low, soft voice, speaking with a little catching of the breath. It was he who had leaned against the wall in the theatre. His hands were evidently good for something better than twisting tobacco. 'I hope the pole did not touch you? I am afraid I was hardly quick enough, but I couldn't get through the people before.'
'My dear sir, you were quick enough to save me from being impaled against this wall; but I really feel quite upset. I must get my daughter home. She looks rather queer.'
She was holding his arm tightly between her hands.
'Do let's go home,' she whispered.
'I'll get you a cab,' said the hero. 'You'll probably get one easily now the mischief's done.'
'He's lost his hat,' observed the rescued one, as the other disappeared. 'Do you feel very bad, my pet? Pull yourself together. Here he comes.'
A hansom drew up in front of them, and their new acquaintance threw back the apron himself.