Rising unsteadily to her feet, she was glad to accept the aid of Wylie’s hand down the slope. Eirene was half unconscious, and moaned when she was touched, and Maurice and Wylie carried her to the improvised field-hospital, where a French surgeon, who had fortunately been among the passengers, was giving such aid as he could to the injured. One or two ladies who had escaped unhurt were tearing up their dust-cloaks for temporary bandages, and behind the tree at the back lay several quiet forms, reverently covered with rugs and macintoshes hastily collected. Zoe shivered at the sight, but the doctor had no time to waste. Discovering that Eirene’s most serious injury was a dislocated shoulder, he reduced the dislocation by rough and ready means, and bound her arm tightly into place, then told Zoe to take her away, since cuts and contusions must await a more opportune moment for treatment. Maurice came forward to help her, and whispered to the doctor, who nodded vigorously.
“By all means get her to bed as soon as possible. An emotional temperament—I have observed it myself—fever very likely to supervene. I will see that she goes with the first batch of wounded.”
But as Maurice and Wylie laid her gently on the slope, Eirene struggled into a sitting position. “My jewel-case!” she screamed. “My jewel-case! where is it?”
“It must be in the carriage still,” said Maurice. “We shall come upon it.”
“Bring it to me!” she cried angrily. “I must have it.”
“It will be found,” said Zoe soothingly, “but no one has seen it yet. Don’t worry yourself, Eirene; it will be all right.” Her tone had grown a little impatient, for she had gathered from Maurice’s whisper to the doctor that Mrs Smith was among the killed, and Eirene had not even asked after her.
“It is lost, stolen!” cried Eirene. “I threw it out of the window when the train began to turn over. Offer a reward, quickly—a million francs, anything!”
“Your wealth must be greater than your prudence, mademoiselle, or you would hardly carry such valuables about with you,” remarked the doctor drily. Like every one else in her immediate vicinity, he had been attracted by Eirene’s shriek.
“They are all I have in the world. My jewels are everything to me,” she cried wildly. “I will not leave this place without them. I will search the line on my hands and knees. It is marked ‘E. E. Smith’—a small box covered with leather, with brass ornaments. Has no one seen it?”
Zoe gave a gasp, and seized Maurice’s arm, pointing to the box as it lay neglected high up the slope. The next moment he had fetched it down, and between tears and laughter she restored it to its owner.