There were two gentlemen in the cabriolet; and one of them, leaning out, said, "What's the matter with the fellow—smite him!"
"Yeth—what ith it all about, poleethman?" demanded the other gentleman, also thrusting forward his head.
Greenwood recognised their voices, and turned his face towards them in an imploring manner: but he suffered too acutely to speak.
"My gwathiouth! Thmilackth," cried Sir Cherry Bounce, who was one of the inmates of the cab: "may I die if it ithn't Gweenwood!"
"So it is, Cherry—strike me!" ejaculated the Honourable Major Dapper. "Here, policeman! see that he's taken proper care of—in the hospital——"
"Yeth—in the hothpital," echoed Sir Cherry.
"Hold your tongue, Cherry—you're a fool," cried the Major. "And, policeman, if you want to communicate with me upon the subject—I mean, if any thing should happen to the poor devil, you know—you can call or write. Here's my card—and here's a guinea for yourself."
"Thanke'e, sir," returned the officer: "but won't you be so kind as to give him a lift in your cab as far as Saint Bartholomew's?"
"Quite out of the quethtion!" exclaimed Sir Cherry.
"Oh! quite," said the Honourable Major Smilax Dapper. "We are engaged to dine at the house of some friends with whom Lady Bounce—that's this gentleman's wife—is staying; and we are late as it is. You must get a stretcher, policeman—strike me! Now then, John!"