Edwin Joy was a little dark man, but he was sinewy and active. He wheeled Philip round so that he placed him easily in a chair near the table.
‘Don’t stir, anybody,’ he said quickly to the astounded guests.
‘Drink this,’ he said to Philip, holding a glass to his lips.... ‘Better?’
Philip nodded.
‘Take a little more. I have been watching you, and knew there was something wrong. What have you been doing?’
All this was uttered rapidly, but in a low and cheery tone, not to alarm the hearers.
‘Riding. The mare was fresh and skittish. The man warned me that she had been at high feeding for some days, and getting little to do. But I knew the mare, and thought I could manage her. She tried to throw me—then stood bolt upright—lost balance, and fell back over me.’
‘Ah! Feet and legs all right. Where were you hurt?’
‘I don’t know. I was slipping off; but there is a queer sensation here.’
The little doctor passed his hands rapidly over the side to which Philip pointed, and beckoned to Dr Guy.