“I just left him,” said Carter, in response to an almost imperceptible nod from the chief; “he’s all right except for a scalp wound and a broken arm.” “I’m glad,” said the girl impulsively. “What happened to him?” asked Carter. “Don’t you know? The Hoffs’ automobile hit us and overturned the motorcycle.” “The Hoffs’ car!” cried Fleck and Carter together. “Yes, I thought you knew.” “Tell us everything,” demanded Fleck. “Where did it happen? Did they run you down purposely?” “I don’t think so; in fact I am sure they didn’t. It was entirely accidental.” “Where did it happen? All Dean could remember was that you had picked up their trail about ten miles south of West Point. He could not tell how the accident occurred. He didn’t even mention the Hoffs or seem to suspect that they were anywhere near at the time.” “I don’t think he saw their car at all,” Jane explained. “I caught just a glimpse of it before we were crashed into. We were on a mountain road going down a steep hill when their motor shot out of a deep cut just as we were passing.” “What happened then?” “I must have been stunned for a moment or two. When I regained my senses the Hoffs’ car had stopped, and Frederic was backing the car to where the accident had happened. His uncle was storming at him for stopping. He wanted Frederic to go on and leave us there, but Frederic wouldn’t do it, and they quarrelled. Frederic won out by pointing out that two bodies lying at the entrance would arouse suspicion.” “At the entrance to what?” “I don’t know. He didn’t say. I think I could find the place again.” “We’ve got to find it,” said Carter. “Indeed we have,” Jane agreed, “and quickly, too. I fear we are going to be too late. Old Mr. Hoff seemed to be in terrible haste and spoke of their plans being nearly completed.” “Go on,” said Fleck quietly, “tell us the rest.” “Frederic Hoff stayed behind to pick us up, and the old man went off on the motorcycle. I heard them talking about his taking a train at the nearest station.” “What did young Hoff do when he found it was you lying there?” “He seemed surprised and startled.” “What did he say?” Jane colored and hesitated. There rose in her mind the picture of his tall figure bending over her, with anguish in his eyes, with expressions of endearment on his lips. She could not, she would not tell them what he had said. “He asked if I was hurt.” “Is that all?” Again she blushed and hesitated. “That’s all.” “Did he not seem amazed at finding you there? Did he not ask you to account for your presence there?” “No,” said the girl, firmly, “he didn’t.” “Didn’t he question you at all?” “No,” she insisted, “he was busy getting Dean into the car. He was unconscious, and it looked as if he was badly hurt.” “Queer, mighty queer,” muttered Carter to himself. “Didn’t he ask you who Dean was?” questioned Fleck. “I explained that he was our chauffeur. He may have known him by sight at any rate.” “Go on.”