"Drive on!" cried the stranger.
"Drive on, at your peril," Iris added, on her side.
The cabman sat, silent and stolid, on the box, waiting for events.
Slowly the men came in view, bearing Lord Harry, still insensible. The
handkerchiefs on his throat were saturated with blood. At that sight,
the cowardly instincts of the stranger completely mastered him. "Let me
out!" he clamoured; "let me out!"
Finding the cab left at her disposal, Iris actually thanked him! 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.