Simultaneously the brougham pulled up and its two occupants rushed to the scene of the accident.
Philip's driver, of course, obeyed instructions, but he shouted to his fare as he jumped into the road:
"That feller's either drunk or 'e did it a-puppuss."
Philip was of the same opinion. He reached the overthrown barricade almost as soon as the two hurrying men in front, both of whom were in evening dress.
One of them held the horse's head and steadied him; the other was just in time to help the young lady to leave her dangerous conveyance.
"I hope you have received no injury, madam," he said, politely.
"Oh, not at all. I was frightened for an instant. How could it have happened? I saw the lamps quite plainly. The man seemed to pull his horse deliberately into the barrier."
The voice was singularly sweet and well modulated. A neighboring arc lamp illuminated the girl's face with its white, unpitying radiance. It revealed features beautifully modeled, and large, startled eyes that looked wonderingly from the man who came so promptly to her rescue to the driver who had caused the mishap. Philip, behind the hansom, was unseen. He remained a critical observer.
"I fear he is intoxicated," was the reply. "Here, you! How came you to make such a blunder?"
"Blind as an owl," came the gurgling answer. "I saw some red spots dancin' abaht, but I thort it must be that larst gill o' beer."