Jon Hagadorn

said Bundle again.

It was a name he was trying to get out, trying with all his failing strength.

"'Yes.

Who am I to tell?'

"'Tell Jimmy Thessiger.'

He got it out at last, and then suddenly his head fell back and his body went limp.

Bundle sat back on her heels, shivering from head to foot.

She could never have imagined that anything so awful could have happened to her.

He was dead, and she had killed him.

She tried to pull herself together.

What must she do now?

A doctor.

That was her first thought.

It was possible, just possible, that the man might only be unconscious, not dead.

Her instinct cried out against the possibility, but she forced herself to act upon it.

Somehow or other she must get him into the car and take him to the nearest doctor's.

It was a deserted stretch of country road, and there was no one to help her.

Bundle, for all her slimness, was strong.

She had muscles of whip-cord.

She brought the Hispano as close as possible, and then, exerting all her strength, she dragged and pulled the inanimate figure into it.