The heavy machine crashed over
on him and dragged him several yards. His head, as he landed in the
roadway, struck a stone, and the motorcycle itself pinned him to the
earth by its weight, one of his arms doubled up in an alarming fashion,
as he lay there completely senseless.
Jane fortunately had landed on some soft grass, though with sufficient
force to leave her badly stunned. As she lay there, a boyish figure in
her disguise, her senses began gradually to revive, although it was some
time before she opened her eyes.
Vaguely, as from a great distance, she began to hear voices, and it
seemed to her that they were German voices, arguing about something. The
voices seemed angry and excited. At first she did not bother about them.
She was wondering how badly she was hurt. Her arms and limbs had a
curious sort of deadness about them, a detached sensation, as if they
belonged to some one else. She wondered if she was paralyzed and dared
not try to move them, fearful lest she might find that it was the
terrible truth.
The voices--the German voices--came nearer, became louder and more
strident. She struggled to collect her thoughts. Where was she? What had
happened? Where was Thomas Dean? Gradually some memory of the accident
came to her. They had been run down by the Hoffs' car.
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