With as much speed as he dared put on, he drove back to the Center Square hotel. As he came to a stop he felt a little movement beside him, and Mary Louise raised her head and opened her eyes.
“Where are we, Max?” she asked. “What happened?”
“Oh, my darling!” he cried, flinging his arm around her shoulders. “You are alive!”
The girl managed a feeble laugh.
“Of course I am. My head hurts dreadfully, though. What happened?”
“You were hit by a stone—see it there, on the floor?—from that tree we were parked under. It knocked you out.... Now, can you manage to walk up to the hotel, or shall I carry you?”
“I can walk,” she replied, taking his arm.
In the light of the hotel doorway Max saw the blood running down her neck. He wiped it with his handkerchief.
“Can we have a doctor immediately?” he asked the hotel clerk the moment they were inside the door.
“Yes, there’s one in the dining room now, eating his dinner. I’ll call him. An accident?”