The rumble of wheels caused him to turn. A clumsy, blue-covered wagon
drew up at the second fountain. It was a military ambulance. A
red-capped trooper sprang down jingling from one of the horses, and
was joined by two others who had followed the ambulance and who also
dismounted. Then the three approached a group of policemen who were
lifting something from the pavement. At the same moment he heard
voices beside him, and turning, found that the girl had risen and was
sitting on the campstool, her head leaning against the little
stranger's shoulder.

An officer stood looking down at her. His boots were spotless. The
band of purple on his red and gold cap showed that he was a surgeon.

"Can we be of any assistance to madame?" he inquired.

"I was looking for a cab," said Gethryn, "but perhaps she is not
strong enough to be taken to her home."

A frightened look came into the girl's face and she glanced anxiously
at the ambulance. The surgeon knelt quietly beside her.

"Madame is not seriously hurt," he said, after a rapid examination.
"The right arm is a little strained, but it will be nothing, I assure
you, Madame; a matter of a few days, that is all."

He rose and stood brushing the knees of his trousers with his
handkerchief. "Monsieur is a foreigner?"

Gethryn smiled. "The accent?"