"Are you hurt, sir?" he asked.
Ferralti smiled, and his eyes rested upon Louise.
"A little, perhaps, Mr. Merrick; but it is unimportant. The horses were frantic at the time and wrenched my wrist viciously as I tried to hold them. I felt something snap; a small bone, perhaps. But I am sure it is nothing of moment."
"We'd better get back to Sorrento," said Uncle John, abruptly.
"Not on my account, I beg of you," returned Ferralti, quickly. "We are half way to Amalfi now, and you may as well go on. For my part, if the wrist troubles me, I will see a surgeon at Amalfi—that is, if you permit me to accompany you."
He said this with a defferent bow and a glance of inquiry.
Uncle John could not well refuse. The young fellow might be a sham count, but the manliness and courage he had displayed in their grave emergency surely entitled him to their grateful consideration.
"You are quite welcome to join us," said Uncle John.
The driver had by now repaired a broken strap and found his equippage otherwise uninjured.
The horses stood meekly quiescent, as if they had never known a moment's fear in their lives. So the girls and their uncle climbed into the vehicle again and the driver mounted the box and cracked his whip with his usual vigor.