"I'm so sorry, dear," her sister exclaimed. "But as soon as we get home, I'll ring up for Doctor Trueman. He'll no doubt soon set it right."
"Can you move your ankle, Miss Mayne?" asked Gerald, who had, in turn, already given the two ladies his name.
"Unfortunately, no—not in the least. To try to move it causes me excruciating pain. I really don't know what I shall do."
"Oh! Surgeons nowadays are wonderful," exclaimed Gerald cheerily. "Probably it is only a simple sprain. At least, let us hope so."
So completely engaged in conversation was Gerald, that he did not notice along what thoroughfare they were travelling. Indeed, the driver had taken an intricate route behind Regent's Park, a district quite unknown to the young man.
From the ladies he learned that they had been dining with a lady living in Phillimore Place, and were on their way back to Knightsbridge tube station on their return home when the accident happened. That they were refined, well-bred ladies was unquestionable, therefore he was genuinely concerned.
At last the taxi stopped before the entrance to a large block of inartistic-looking flats, and with difficulty Miss Mayne descended. Then, assisted by the driver and Gerald, she, with great difficulty, ascended to the first floor, while her sister opened the door with her latch-key, and switched on the light.
Within it was a cosy, well-furnished abode, just as one would expect to be the home of two refined women of good position.
Mrs. Evans paid the driver, giving him half a sovereign over his fare, and saying:
"I shall want you to take this gentleman back to the West End presently. So wait!"