of bundle, he knew not where. Recovering from a daze, he said to himself,
'Why, this is an accident--a collision!' Then he tried to unroll himself,
and in the effort found that one of his arms was useless; more than that,
it pained him horribly. He stood up and tottered on to the seat. Then the
carriage-door opened, and a voice shouted--

'Anybody hurt here?'

'I think my arm is broken,' answered Humplebee.

Two men helped him to alight. The train had stopped just outside a small
station; on a cross line in front of the engine lay a goods truck smashed
to pieces; people were rushing about with cries and gesticulations.

'Yes, the arm is broken,' remarked one of the men who had assisted
Humplebee. 'It looks as if you were the only passenger injured.' That
proved, indeed, to be the case; no one else had suffered more than a jolt
or a bruise. The crowd clustered about this hero of the broken arm,
expressing sympathy and offering suggestions. Among them was a well-dressed
young man, rather good-looking and of lively demeanour, who seemed to enjoy
the excitement; he, after gazing fixedly at the pain-stricken face,
exclaimed in a voice of wonder--

'By jove! it's Humplebee!'

The sufferer turned towards him who spoke; his eyes brightened, for he
recognised the face of Leonard Chadwick. Neither one nor the other had
greatly altered during the past ten years; they presented exactly the same
contrast of personal characteristic as when they were at school together.
With vehement friendliness Chadwick at once took upon himself the care of