The horse had by this time been unharnessed and the cab had been lifted upon its wheels again.
The reporter stood by a silent and apparently listless spectator of the scene.
Doctor Thurston turned to him:
"Come along, Sturgis; neither you nor I are needed here; and if we do not hurry, Sprague's dinner will have to wait for us. It is a quarter to eight now."
The reporter seemed about to follow his friend, but he stood for an instant irresolute.
"I say, Doctor," he inquired at last, "are you sure the man is drunk?"
"He has certainly been drinking heavily. Why?"
"Because it seems to me——Hello, we cannot go yet; the passenger is more badly hurt than the driver."
"The passenger?" queried the physician, turning in surprise to the policeman.
"What passenger?" asked the policeman, looking at the cabman. "Have you a passenger inside, young feller?"