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 than I had. Then she turned to me. "Brown, is that man much hurt?" she asked briskly. "No," I replied. "He is merely scratched, and no doubt bruised. If he had any bones broken, any internal injury or severe strain, he couldn't rage about like a mad bull."

"Still, it was our fault," she said. "We ought to have stopped. His clothes are torn. How much ought we to pay?"

"Nothing at all," said Sherlock. "Don't you let yourself be blackmailed."

She didn't answer or look in his direction, thus emphasising the fact that she had asked her question of me, not of him.

"Fifty francs would be generous," I said, "to buy the fellow a new suit of clothes and pay for a bottle of liniment. With that to-morrow he would be thanking his stars for the accident. But as Mr. Payne was driving, hadn't you better let him talk to them? It isn't right that two men should stand by and let the burden fall on a lady."

"You speak to them, Brown; I give you carte blanche," said she, and we faced the mob together.

"If you threaten us," I said, "you shall have nothing. We were going fast, but your horse is badly broken, and is more of a danger on the road than an automobile. If you behave yourself and tell your friends to do likewise, this lady wishes to give you fifty francs to buy new clothes in place of those which have suffered in this accident. But we don't intend to be bullied."

"Fifty francs!" shrieked the man. "Fifty francs