The lawyer looked at the unconscious man and could not repress a start. It was his father. For just an eyebeat he hesitated before he said, “I've seen him before somewhere.”
“We must take him to the hospital. Isn't there a doctor here? Someone run for a doctor.” The young woman's glance swept the crowd in appeal.
“I'll take care of him. Better get away before the crowd is too large, Miss Frome.”
“No. It was our machine did it. Oh, here's a doctor.”
A pair of lean, muscular shoulders pushed through the press after the doctor. “Much hurt, James?” inquired their owner.
“No. For heaven's sake, get Miss Frome away, Jeff,” implored his cousin.
“Miss Frome!” Jeff stepped forward with an exclamation.
The young woman looked up. She was kneeling in the street and supporting the head of the wounded man. Her face was almost as bloodless as his.
“We almost ran him down. Your cousin jumped to save him. He isn't dead, doctor, is he?”
Jeff turned swiftly to his cousin and spoke in a low voice. “It's your father.”