“How absurd!” he muttered. “Where am I going? Ask the driver.”
He drew up his legs and let his feet drop into the cab, as he tried to sit up, but the effort gave him the sensation of molten lead running from one of his temples to the other, and he lay perfectly still while the agonising pain passed slowly away, trying hard to think what had happened, but in vain. There was the black cloud before him mentally, though he could see the gleaming of a lamp he passed through the blurred panes of glass.
At last, feeling more and more startled by his condition, he made a brave effort, raised himself upright, and reached out for the strap, so as to lower the front window; but at the first movement he was seized with a sickening giddiness, lurched forward, and thrust himself back to recline in the corner again till the molten lead had ceased to flow from side to side of his head.
At last, very slowly and cautiously, bit by bit, he edged himself forward till his knees rested against the front cushion, and then, thrusting one hand into the left corner, he reached out for the strap, raised the window, and let it glide sharply and loudly down.
“Hi! Cabby!” he cried hoarsely.
“Right, sir!” came back, and the cab was drawn up by the kerb beneath the next street lamp.
Then the driver got down and opened the door, to stand with the rain streaming off his waterproof hat and cape.
“Mornin’, sir,” he said in a husky voice, closely following a chuckle. “Feel better now?”
“No, I am horribly ill. Where am I?”
“Why, here, sir,” said the man, chuckling. “My word, it’s a wet ’un outside.”