He
looked at her with an evil eye. "I have my suspicions, I can tell you,"
he muttered. "If this comes to a trial in a court of law, I'm not going
to be mixed up with it. Innocent people have been hanged before now,
when appearances were against them."

He walked off; and, by way of completing the revelation of his own
meanness, forgot to pay his fare.

On the point of starting the horse to pursue him, the cabman was
effectually stopped. Iris showed him a sovereign. Upon this hint (like
Othello) he spoke.

"All right, Miss. I see your poor gentleman is a-bleeding. You'll take
care--won't you?--that he doesn't spoil my cushions." The driver was
not a ill-conditioned man; he put the case of his property indulgently,
with a persuasive smile. Iris turned to the two worthy fellows, who had
so readily given her their help, and bade them good-bye, with a solid
expression of her gratitude which they both remembered for many a long
day to come. Fanny was already in the cab supporting Lord Harry's body.
Iris joined her. The cabman drove carefully to Mr. Vimpany's new house.

CHAPTER XVIII

PROFESSIONAL ASSISTANCE

NUMBER Five was near the centre of the row of little suburban houses
called Redburn Road.

When the cab drew up at the door Mr. Vimpany himself was visible,
looking out of the window on the ground floor--and yawning as he
looked. Iris beckoned to him impatiently. "Anything wrong?" he asked,
as he approached the door of the cab. She drew back, and silently
showed him what was wrong. The doctor received the shock with
composure. When he happened to be sober and sad, looking for patients
and failing to find them, Mr. Vimpany's capacity for feeling sympathy
began and ended with himself.

"This is a new scrape, even for Lord Harry," he remarked. "Let's get
him into the house."

The insensible man was carried into the nearest room on the ground
floor. Pale and trembling, Iris related what had happened, and asked if
there was no hope of saving him.

"Patience!" Mr. Vimpany answered; "I'll tell you directly."

He removed the bandages, and examined the wound. "There's been a deal
of blood lost," he said; "I'll try and pull him through. While I am
about it, Miss, go upstairs, if you please, and find your way to the
drawing-room." Iris hesitated. The doctor opened a neat mahogany box.
"The tools of my trade," he continued; "I'm going to sew up his
lordship's throat." Shuddering as she heard those words, Iris hu