The car was directly in front of him now, only some twenty feet away. By this time he could see plainly that the car was resting on the right-hand side of the top.
“Hello,” Ansley called. “Is everybody all right?”
Again there was no answer.
“Is anybody hurt?” Ansley asked.
The night silence was broken only by the gurgling noises of liquids draining from the car. There was the harsh odor of raw gasoline.
Ansley knew he didn’t dare to strike a match. He remembered then, belatedly, that he kept a small flashlight in the glove compartment of his car. He ran back, floundering through the hedge, opened the glove compartment of his car and returned with the flashlight.
This light, carried for emergencies, had been in the glove compartment for a long time. The battery was all but dead. The bulb furnished a fitful reddish glow which Ansley knew wouldn’t last long. In order to save the battery, he switched out the light and again floundered through the broken hedge in the dark. He approached the car, saw that one of the doors was swinging partially open. He thrust his arm inside the car and turned on the flashlight.
There was no one inside.
Ansley moved around the front of the car, holding the flashlight in front of him. What should have been a beam of bright light was now only a small cone of faint illumination. It was, however, sufficient to show the girl’s feet and ankles, feet which were eloquently motionless.
Ansley hurried around so that he could see the rest of the form which lay huddled there on the wet grass.
She had evidently been thrown to the ground and had skidded forward. The legs were smooth, shapely and well rounded. The momentum of the young woman’s slide had left her legs exposed to the thighs, her skirts rumpled into a twisted ball. Ansley raised the flashlight, saw one arm twisted up and over the face, and then the light failed completely.
Instinctively, and without thinking, Ansley threw the useless flashlight from him, bent over the young woman’s body and in the darkness groped for her wrist.
He found a pulse, a faint but regular heartbeat.
Ansley straightened and started groping his way across to the gravel driveway, only to find that the hedge barred his progress. He moved along parallel with the hedge, raised his voice and shouted, “Help!” at the top of his lungs.
The soggy darkness swallowed up the cry, and Ansley, annoyed at the thick hedge which kept him from the open gravel driveway, lowered his shoulder and prepared to crash through the intertwined branches.
It was then he heard the faint, moaning call from behind him.
Ansley paused and listened. This time he heard a tremulous cry of “Help! Help!”
Once more Ansley turned and groped his way back through the darkness to the overturned car.
The young woman was sitting up now, a vague figure in the darkness. Ansley could see the blurred white oval of her face, her two hands and the lighter outline of flesh above her stockings.
“Are you hurt?” Ansley asked.
By way of answer she instinctively pulled down her skirt.
“Where am I?” she asked.
“Are you hurt?”
“I don’t know.”
“Let’s find out,” Ansley said, dropping down beside her. “Any broken bones?”
“Who... who are you?”
“I was driving the car that you... ran into.”
“Oh.”
“Tell me, are you all right? Try moving your arms, your legs.”
“I’ve moved my arms,” she said. “My... my legs... Yes, I’m all right. Help me up, will you, please?”
She extended a hand and Ansley took it. After two abortive attempts, she managed to get to her feet. She stood, wobbling for a moment, then swayed against him. Ansley supported her with an arm around her waist, a hand under her armpit on the other side. “Take it easy,” he said.
“Where... where am I?”
“You were just turning in at the driveway of the Meridith Borden estate when you apparently lost control of your car,” Ansley said, choosing his words carefully, not wishing to accuse the shaken young woman of having hit him, but carefully avoiding any admission that his car had hit hers.
“Oh, yes,” she said, “I remember now... There was something in the road ahead, a dead cat or something. I didn’t know what it was. I swerved the car slightly and then all of a sudden I was dizzy, going around and around. I saw headlights and then there was a crash. I felt myself going over, and the next thing I knew, I was sitting here in the grass. I’m... I’m all right now. My head is clearing rapidly.”
“Were you alone?” Ansley asked.
“Yes.”
“Do you have anything in the car?”
“Nothing except my purse. I’ll get that. Do you have a flashlight?”
“No. I had one that was just about completely rundown. I was able to get a few minutes’ light from the thing before the battery ran down completely.”
“Do you have a match?”
“Don’t strike a match,” Ansley warned. “There’s gasoline draining out of the motor somewhere, or out of the gas tank.”
“I can find it,” she said. “At least I hope I can.”
“Can I get it for you? Can I—?”
“No,” she said, “I’ll get it.”
She stooped, crawled through the open door, and once more Ansley saw the rounded flesh above her stocking tops as she struggled back, getting out through the door feet first.
“Get it?” Ansley asked.
“I got it,” she said. “Heavens! I’ll bet I was a spectacle that time.”
Ansley said, “It’s dark. Thank heavens you’re not hurt. The first thing for us to do is to get you where you want to go, and then we’ll send a tow car out and notify Borden.”
“I’ll take care of that,” she said hastily. “Don’t bother about it. And don’t worry about the accident. It wasn’t your fault. I think it was just one of those unavoidable things. Your car isn’t damaged, is it?”
“I didn’t look,” Ansley said, “but I don’t think so. The way it felt you just grazed my bumper.”
“Let’s go take a look,” she said.
“Do you have anything in there besides your purse?”
“That’s all. There’s a raincoat in there somewhere, but that can wait until the tow car shows up.”
“Can I get it for you?”
“No, I know about where it is.”
“It’s dark,” Ansley said.
She said, “Yes, but I think I can find it.”
She wiggled her way into the car again, came out pulling a coat after her and said, “Okay, let’s go.”
“Now, we’re supposed to do something about this, I think,” Ansley said, as he led the way through the hedge. “I think we’re supposed to make a report or something.”
“Oh, sure, we’re supposed to check one another’s driving licenses and all that. We’ll have time to talk that over while you’re driving me into town. You are headed toward the city, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that’s fine.”
“I’ll take you anywhere you want to go,” Ansley said.
“Do you know the Ancordia Apartments?”
“No, I’m not familiar with them.”
“Well, turn off — I’ll show you. Just go on in on the freeway.”
“All right,” Ansley said. “I’ll take a look at my car, but I’m quite certain there’s no damage done.”
Ansley looked at his car, found a dented fender and a scrape of paint on the bumper.
“No damage to my car,” he said.
“Do I just hop in?” she asked.
Ansley laughed and held the door open. “Hop in,” he invited.
Ansley had a chance to size the young woman up as the light in the interior of the car disclosed reddish hair, even, regular features, dark brownish eyes, a firm chin and a good figure.
“We may as well get acquainted,” she said, laughing. “I’m Beatrice Cornell. I live in the Ancordia Apartments. My friends call me Bee for short.”