"How did it happen?" I asked when Polton had crept away on tip-toe to
make ready for dinner.

Thorndyke looked round to make sure that his henchman had departed, and
said--

"A queer affair, Jervis; a very odd affair indeed. I was coming up from
the Borough, picking my way mighty carefully across the road on account
of the greasy, slippery mud, and had just reached the foot of London
Bridge when I heard a heavy lorry coming down the slope a good deal too
fast, considering that it was impossible to see more than a dozen yards
ahead, and I stopped on the kerb to see it safely past. Just as the
horses emerged from the fog, a man came up behind and lurched violently
against me and, strangely enough, at the same moment passed his foot in
front of mine. Of course I went sprawling into the road right in front
of the lorry. The horses came stamping and sliding straight on to me,
and, before I could wriggle out of the way, the hoof of one of them
smashed in my hat--that was a new one that I came home in--and
half-stunned me. Then the near wheel struck my head, making a dirty
little scalp wound, and pinned down my sleeve so that I couldn't pull
away my arm, which is consequently barked all the way down. It was a
mighty near thing, Jervis; another inch or two and I should have been
rolled out as flat as a starfish."

"What became of the man?" I asked, wishing I could have had a brief
interview with him.

"Lost to sight though to memory dear: he was off like a lamplighter. An
alcoholic apple-woman picked me up and escorted me back to the hospital.
It must have been a touching spectacle," he added, with a dry smile at