have to go to the station for a few minutes."

"But, confound it, officer--I have nothing to do with this row."

"That may be true, sir. You can explain all that at the desk. We have to
get at the bottom of this. This is no place to argue."

A moment later the hansom, with a bent axle, was hobbling its way down
the street engineered by bluecoats. Hugh, seeing that it was useless to
remonstrate, sank back in the seat and swore audibly.

"Don't worry about it, Hugh," said a soft voice in his ear. "We can
explain, can't we?"

"You can't explain anything to asses, Grace," he lamented, "especially
if they wear buttons." They lapsed into a mournful, regretful silence.
For five full minutes the hansom wobbled painfully along and then pulled
up in front of a building which Hugh lugubriously recognized as a police
station. "We've got to make the best of it, dear. Did you ever hear of
such beastly luck? I'll see if they won't let me go in alone and square
things. You won't be afraid to sit out here alone for a few minutes,
will you? There's really nothing to be alarmed about. This driver of
ours is in trouble, that's all. We're not to blame. A word or two will
fix everything. I'll be out in a jiffy."

But the bluecoats would not see it that way. Miss Vernon was compelled
to climb down from the seat and march indignantly into the desk
sergeant's presence. Hugh at once began to explain and to expostulate
against what he called an outrage.