“Now, mum,” suggested the policeman. “Just you let go of it, and we’ll lift it to where it can stay till the ambulance gets here.”
“Oh, don’t,” begged Miss Durant. “He shouldn’t be moved until—”
“Like as not it’ll take ten minutes to get it here, and we can’t let the street stay blocked like this.”
“Ten minutes!” exclaimed the girl. “Isn’t it possible—We must get help sooner, or he—” She broke in upon her own words, “Lift him into my carriage, and I’ll take him to the hospital.”
“Can’t let you, miss,” spoke up a police sergeant, who meantime had forced his way through the crowd. “Your coachman’s got to stay and answer for this.”
“He shall, but not now,” protested Miss Durant. “I will be responsible for him. Wallace, give them one of my cards from the case in the carriage.”
“Miss Durant sprang out and lifted the head gently”
The officer took the bit of pasteboard and looked at it. “That’s all right, miss,” he said. “Here, Casey, together now and easy.”