The message was from the mayor of Dansworth. "Situation well in hand. No more trouble feared. Best thanks."
"All right!" said Buntingford. He turned smiling to Helena. "Now we'll go home and get some dinner!"
The Dansworth doctor and nurse remained behind. Once more Buntingford got into the car beside his ward.
"What an ass I am!" he said, in disgust—"not to be able to drive the car. But I should probably kill you and myself."
Helena laughed at him, a new sweetness in the sound, and they started.
Presently Buntingford said gently:
"I want to thank you,—for one thing especially—for having waited so patiently—while we got the thing under."
"I wasn't patient at all! I wanted desperately to be in it!"
"All the more credit! It would have been a terrible anxiety if you had been there. A policeman was killed just beside us. There was a man with a revolver running amuck. He just missed French by a hair-breadth."
Helena exclaimed in horror.