"Oh, you idiot!" shouted the captain. And, in order to give his instructions as rapidly as possible, he leaned almost entirely out of the vehicle.
But a second or two had passed when the chauffeur stopped dead, that he might see what had happened to his fare. Something must have happened, for Brocq had abruptly stopped short in the midst of his directions. He had collapsed on the cushions of the taxi, and remained motionless.
Other vehicles surrounded the automobile. Some ladies passing in a victoria noticed the captain.
"Look, my dear," exclaimed one of them, "do you see how pale that man is? He seems to be ill!"...
At the same moment, the pedestrians were struck by the officer's strange attitude. Brocq had suddenly subsided in a heap on the cushion, his head had fallen to one side, his mouth was open, his eyes were closed: he seemed to have fainted.
A crowd gathered at once.
The chauffeur got down, shook his fare by the arm, and the arm was inert.
The crowd increased.
"A doctor!" cried a voice. "It is plain that this man is ill!"