Afterwards

One grey and cloudy morning when the sun had forgotten to shine, and the air was warm and moist, Anstice was driving his car along a country road when he espied her sitting by the wayside with a rather woe-begone face.

Her motor-bicycle was beside her and she was engaged in tying a knot, with the fingers of her left hand aided by her teeth, in a roughly-improvised bandage which hid her right wrist.

On seeing his car she looked up; and something in the rather piteous expression of her grey eyes made him slow down beside her.

"What's wrong, Miss Wayne? Had a spill?"

She answered him ruefully.

"Yes. At least my motor skidded and landed me in the road. And I cut my wrist on a sharp stone--look!"

She held up a cruelly-jagged flint; and Anstice sprang out of his car and approached her.

"I say, what a horrid-looking thing! Let me see your wrist, may I? I think you'd better let me bind it up for you."

"Will you?" She held out her wrist obediently, and taking off the handkerchief which bound it he saw that it was really badly cut, the blood still dripping from the wound.

"Ah, quite a nasty gash--it would really do with a stitch or two." He hesitated, looking at her thoughtfully. "Miss Wayne, what's to be done? You can't ride home like that, and yet we can hardly leave your motor-bike on the roadside."

He paused a second, his wits at work. Then his face cleared.

"I know what we'll do," he said. "Round this corner is a cottage where a patient of mine lives. We'll go in there, dispatch her son to look after the bike till I patch you up, and then if you can't manage to ride home we'll think of some other arrangement."

Iris rose, gladly, from her lowly seat.

"That's splendid, Dr. Anstice. I'm sure I can ride home if you will stop this stupid bleeding."

"Good." He liked her pluck. "Jump into my car and we'll go and interview Mrs. Treble."

"What an odd name!"

"Yes, isn't it? And by a strange coincidence her maiden name was Bass!"

Iris laughed, and a little colour came into her pale cheeks as they sped swiftly round the corner in search of the oddly-named lady's abode.

Mrs. Treble, who was engaged in hanging out the weekly washing in the small garden, was all sympathy at the sight of the young lady's wounded wrist, and invited them into the parlour and provided the basin of water and other accessories for which Anstice asked with a cheerful bustle which took no account of any trouble involved.