The lights of the torches bobbed up and down in a confused blur of twinkling stars, the sound of voices and the trampling of feet came faintly to her ears as from a great way off, while the grim, black bulk of the piled-up coaches of the train seemed to lean nearer and nearer, until finally it swooped down on top of her and she sank into a sea of impenetrable darkness.
The next thing she remembered was finding a flask held to her lips, while a familiar voice commanded her to drink.

She shook her head feebly.
"Drink it at once," the voice insisted.

"Do you hear ?" And because her mind held some dim recollection of the futility of gainsaying that peremptory voice, she opened her lips obediently and let the strong spirit trickle down her throat.
"Better now ?" queried the voice.
She nodded, and then, complete consciousness returning, she sat up.
"I'm all right now--really," she said.
The owner of the voice regarded her critically.
"Yes, I think you'll do now," he returned.

"Stay where you are.

I'm going along to see if I can help, but I'll come back to you again." The darkness swallowed him up, and Diana sat very still on the embankment, vibrantly conscious in every nerve of her of the man's cool, dominating personality.