Other passengers began to lift the victim.
“Drop him!” snapped the tall man, with such imperative decisiveness, that the helping hands involuntarily retracted. “Let him lie, you fools! Do you want to kill him?”
Misgivings beset and cooled Mr. Thomas Clyde. He had now reached the rear platform, still holding in his powerful and disabling grasp the unknown man, when he heard a voice from an automobile which had been halted by the abrupt stop of the car.
“Can I be of any help?”
“Dr. Magruder!” exclaimed Mr. Clyde, “come in here, will you, and look at a sick man?”
As the doctor stepped aboard, the captive with a violent wrench freed himself from Mr. Clyde’s relaxing hold and dropped from the platform into the darkness. Dr. Magruder forced his way through the crowd, took one look at the patient, and, right and left, struck him powerfully across the cheeks time and again, until the leaden-lidded eyes opened again. There was a quick recourse to the physician’s little satchel; then—
“All right,” said the doctor cheerfully. “He’ll do now. But, my friend, with that heart of yours, you want to sign the pledge or make your will. It was touch and go with you that time.”
Waiting to hear no more, Mr. Thomas Clyde jumped from the rear step and set off at a rapid pace, looking about him as he ran. He had not gone a block when he saw, by the radiance of an electric light, a tall figure leaning against a tree in an attitude of nerveless dejection. The figure straightened up.
“Don’t try to man-handle me again,” advised the man, “or you may meet with a disappointment.”
“I’ve come to apologize.”