"
"Oh, pray leave that to me, Miss Fenshawe," broke in the Baron, whose
fluent English had a slight lisp. "Here is my card," he went on
rapidly, looking at Royson with calm assurance. "Come and see me this
evening, at seven o'clock, and I will make it worth your while."
A glance at Royson's clothes told him enough, as he thought, to
appraise the value of the assistance given. And he had no idea that his
fair companion had really been in such grave danger. He believed that
the shattering of the pole against the lamp standard had stopped the
bolting horses, and that the tall young man now surveying him with a
measuring eye had merely succeeded in catching the reins.
Royson lifted his hat to the lady, who had alighted, and was daintily
gathering her skirts out of the mud.
"I am glad to have been able to help you, madam," he said. He would
have gone without another word had not von Kerber touched his arm.
"You have not taken my card," said the man imperiously.
Some mischievous impulse, born of the turbulent emotions momentarily
quelled by the flurry of the carriage accident, conquered Royson's
better instincts.
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