"It's Agatha!" he cried.
"Philip!" came in answer.
Before either had a chance to utter another word hansoms, riders, and drivers were on the ground. Fortunately the horses kept their heads, being possibly accustomed to little diversions of the kind. They merely continued still, as if waiting to see what would happen next. In consequence he was able to scramble out himself, and to assist Miss Angel in following him.
"Are you hurt?" he asked.
"I don't think so; not a bit."
"Excuse me, but my sister's in the other cab."
"Your sister!"
He did not wait to hear. He was off like a flash. From the ruins of the other vehicle--which seemed to have suffered most in the contact--he gradually extricated the dishevelled Mrs. Tranmer. She seemed to be in a sad state. He led her to a chemist's shop, which luckily stood open close at hand, accompanied by Miss Angel and a larger proportion of the crowd than the proprietor appeared disposed to welcome. He repeated the inquiry he had addressed to Miss Angel.
"Are you hurt?"
This time the response was different.