the engine-driver now. They have got him in a shed by the embankment.
I'll call in again later on. Let's have one more look at you,
young man."

He glanced at the cut on Gerald's forehead, noted the access of
colour in his cheeks, and nodded.

"Born to be hanged, you were," he pronounced. "You've had a
marvellous escape. I'll be in again presently. No need to worry
about your friend. He looks as though he'd got a mighty constitution.
Light my lantern, Brown. Two of you had better come with me to the
shed. It's no night for a man to be wandering about alone."

He departed, and many of the villagers with him. The landlady sat
down and began to weep.

"Such a night! Such a night!" she exclaimed, wringing her hands.
"And there's the doctor talks about putting the poor gentleman to
bed! Why, the roof's off the back part of the house, and not a
bedroom in the place but mine and John's, and the rain coming in
there in torrents. Such a night! It's the judgment of the Lord
upon us! That's what it is--the judgment of the Lord!"

"Judgment of the fiddlesticks!" her husband growled. "Can't you
light the fire, woman? What's the good of sitting there whining?"

"Light the fire," she repeated bitterly, "and the chimney lying out
in the road! Do you want to suffocate us all, or is the beer still
in your head? It's your evil doings, Richard Budden, and others
like you, that have brought this upon us. If Mr. Wembley would