"On the contrary, I assure you, Monsieur," cried the officer with
more politeness than truth. He eyed the ambulance. "The people of
Paris have learned a lesson today," he said.

A trooper clattered up, leading an officer's horse, and dismounted,
saluting. The young surgeon glanced at his watch.

"Picard," he said, "stop a closed cab and send it here."

The trooper wheeled his horse and galloped away across the square, and
the officer turned to the others.

"Madame, I trust, will soon recover," he said courteously. "Madame,
messieurs, I have the honor to salute you." And with many a clink and
jingle, he sprang into the saddle and clattered away in the wake of
the slowly moving ambulance.

At the corner of the Rue Royale, Gethryn saw the trooper stop a cab
and point to the Obelisk. He went over and asked the canary-colored
stranger, "Will you take her home, or shall I?"

"Why, you, of course; you brought her here."

"No, I didn't. I never saw her until I noticed her being pushed about
by the crowd." He caught the girl's eye and colored furiously, hoping
she did not suspect the nature of their discussion. Before her
helplessness it seemed so brutal.

The cab drew up before the Obelisk and a gruff voice cried, "V'la!
M'ssieurs! -- 'dames!"