Surgeon-Major Thomson reeled for a moment and caught at the paling by his side. Then he recovered himself almost as quickly, and, leaning forward, gazed eagerly at the long, grey racing-car which was already passing Buckingham Palace and almost out of sight in the slight morning fog. There was a very small cloud of white smoke drifting away into space, and a faint smell of gunpowder in the air. He felt his cheek and, withdrawing his fingers, gazed at them with a little nervous laugh--they were wet with blood.
He looked up and down the broad pathway. For nine o'clock in the morning the Birdcage Walk was marvellously deserted. A girl, however, who had been driving a small car very slowly on the other side of the road, suddenly swung across, drew up by the kerb and leaned towards him.
"Hugh--Major Thomson, what is the matter with you?"He dabbed his cheek with his pocket handkerchief.
"Nothing," he answered simply.
"Don't be silly!" she exclaimed. "I felt certain that I heard a shot just now, and I saw you reel and spin round for a moment. And your cheek, too--it's all over blood!"He smiled.
"A bullet did come my way and just graze my cheek," he admitted. "Most extraordinary thing. I wonder whether one of those fellows in the Park had an accident with his rifle."He glanced thoughtfully across towards where a number of khaki-clad figures were dimly visible behind the railings. Geraldine looked at him severely.
"Of course," she began, "if you really think that I don't know the difference between the report of a pistol and a rifle shot--"He interrupted her.
"I was wrong," he confessed. "Forgive me. You see, my head was a little turned. Some one did deliberately fire at me, and I believe it was from a grey racing-car. I couldn't see who was driving it and it was out of sight almost at once.""But I never heard of such a thing!" she exclaimed. "Why on earth should they fire at you? You haven't any enemies, have you?""Not that I know of," he assured her.
She stepped from the car and came lightly over to his side.
"Take your handkerchief away," she ordered. "Don't be foolish. You forget that I am a certificated nurse."He raised his handkerchief and she looked for a moment at the long scar. Her face grew serious.
"Another half-inch," she murmured,--"Hugh, what an abominable thing! Adeliberate attempt at murder here, at nine o'clock in the morning, in the Park! I can't understand it.""Well, I've been under fire before," he remarked, smiling.
"Get into my car at once," she directed. "I'll drive you to a chemist's and put something on that. You can't go about as you are, and it will have healed up then in a day or two."He obeyed at once and she drove off.
"Of course, I'm a little bewildered about it still," she went on. "I suppose you ought to go to the police-station. It was really a deliberate attempt at assassination, wasn't it? If you had been--"She paused and he completed her sentence with a humorous twinkle in his eyes.
"If I had been a person of importance, eh? Well, you see, even I must have been in somebody's way."She drove in silence for some little distance.
"Hugh," she asked abruptly, "why did the War Office send you down to Market Burnham after that Zeppelin raid?"His face was suddenly immovable. He turned his head very slightly.
"Did Granet tell you that?"
She nodded.
"Captain Granet came to see me yesterday afternoon. He seemed as much surprised as I was. You were a little hard on him, weren't you?""I think not!"
"But why were you sent down?" she persisted. "I can't imagine what you have to do with a Zeppelin raid."He shrugged his shoulders.
"I really don't think it is worth while your bothering about the bandage," he said.
"Hugh, you make me so angry!" she exclaimed. "Of course, you may say that Ihaven't the right to ask, but still I can't see why you should be so mysterious. . . . Here's the chemist's. Now come inside with me, please."He followed her obediently into the shop at the top of Trafalgar Square. She dressed his wound deftly and adjusted a bandage around his head.
"If you keep that on all day," she said, "I think--but I forgot. I was treating you like an ordinary patient. Don't laugh at me, sir. I am sure none of your professional nurses could have tied that up any better.""Of course they couldn't," he agreed. "By-the-bye, have you obtained your papers for Boulogne yet?""I expect to be going next week. Lady Headley promised to let me know this afternoon. Now I'll take you down to the War Office, if you like."He took his place once more by her side.
"Hugh," she inquired, "have you any idea who fired that shot?""None whatever," he replied, "no definite idea, that is to say. It was some one who as driving a low, grey car. Do we know any one who possesses such a thing?"She frowned. The exigencies of the traffic prevented her glancing towards him.
"Only Captain Granet," she remarked, "and I suppose even your dislike of him doesn't go so far as to suggest that he is likely to play the would-be murderer in broad daylight.""It certainly does seem a rather rash and unnecessary proceeding," he assented, "but the fact remains that some one thought it worth while.""Some one with a grudge against the Chief Inspector of Hospitals," she observed drily.
He did not reply. They drew up outside the War Office.
"Thank you very much," he said, "for playing the Good Samaritan."She made a little grimace. Suddenly her manner became more earnest. She laid her fingers upon his arm as he stood on the pavement by her side.
