George had turned the car and then backed it round the bulge.
Frankie disappeared for a moment then reappeared in the road, waving a handkerchief. A second handkerchief waved from the bottom of the road at the turn.
Bobby put the car into third gear, then, standing on the footboard, he released the brake. The car moved grudgingly forward, impeded by being in gear. The slope, however, was sufficiently steep. The engine started. The car gathered way.
Bobby steadied the steering wheel. At the last possible moment he jumped off.
The car went on down the hill and crashed into the wall with considerable force. All was well – the accident had taken place successfully.
Bobby saw Frankie run quickly to the scene of the crime and plop down amid the wreckage. George in his car came round the corner and pulled up.
With a sigh Bobby mounted his motor cycle and rode away in the direction of London.
At the scene of the accident things were busy.
‘Shall I roll about in the road a bit,’ asked Frankie, ‘to get myself dusty?’ ‘You might as well,’ said George. ‘Here, give me your hat.’ He took it and inflicted a terrific dent on it. Frankie gave a faint anguished cry.
‘That’s the concussion,’ explained George. ‘Now, then, lie doggo just where you are. I think I heard a bicycle bell.’ Sure enough, at that moment, a boy of about seventeen came whistling round the corner. He stopped at once, delighted with the pleasurable spectacle that met his eyes.
‘Ooer!’ he ejaculated,’ ‘as there been an accident?’ ‘No,’ said George sarcastically. ‘The young lady ran her car into the wall on purpose.’ Accepting, as he was meant to do, this remark as irony rather than the simple truth which it was, the boy said with relish: ‘Looks bad, don’t she? Is she dead?’ ‘Not yet,’ said George. ‘She must be taken somewhere at once. I’m a doctor. What’s this place in here?’ ‘Merroway Court. Belongs to Mr Bassington-ffrench. He’s a JP, he is.’ ‘She must be carried there at once,’ said George authoritatively.
‘Here, leave your bicycle and lend me a hand.’ Only too willing, the boy propped his bicycle against the wall and came to assist. Between them George and the boy carried Frankie up the drive to a pleasant old-fashioned-looking manor house.
Their approach had been observed, for an elderly butler came out to meet them.
‘There’s been an accident,’ said George curtly. ‘Is there a room I can carry this lady into? She must be attended to at once.’ The butler went back into the hall in a flustered way. George and the boy followed him up closely, still carrying the limp body of Frankie. The butler had gone into a room on the left and from there a woman emerged. She was tall, with red hair, and about thirty years of age. Her eyes were a light clear blue.
She dealt with the situation quickly.
‘There is a spare bedroom on the ground floor,’ she said.
‘Will you bring her in there? Ought I to telephone for a doctor?’ ‘I am a doctor,’ explained George. ‘I was passing in my car and saw the accident occur.’ ‘Oh! how very fortunate. Come this way, will you?’ She showed them the way into a pleasant bedroom with windows giving on the garden.
‘Is she badly hurt?’ she inquired.
‘I can’t tell yet.’ Mrs Bassington-ffrench took the hint and retired. The boy accompanied her and launched out into a description of the accident as though he had been an actual witness of it.
‘Run smack into the wall she did. Car’s all smashed up.
There she was lying on the ground with her hat all dinted in.
The gentleman, he was passing in his car ‘ He proceeded ad lib till got rid of with a half-crown.
Meanwhile Frankie and George were conversing in careful whispers.
‘George, darling, this won’t blight your career, will it? They won’t strike you off the register, or whatever it is, will they?’ ‘Probably,’ said George gloomily. ‘That is, if it ever comes out.’ ‘It won’t,’ said Frankie. ‘Don’t worry, George. I shan’t let you down.’ She added thoughtfully: ‘You did it very well. I’ve never heard you talk so much before.’ George sighed. He looked at his watch.