He was just shifting his gears into first when he felt the front end of the car swaying violently back and forth. He threw out the clutch and jammed on the brakes, but it was too late.
The front of the car lurched over to one side, dropped to the ground, and plowed down into the ditch at the roadside. He was thrown forward felt a stinging blow on the head, and then went unconscious.
A few minutes later a passing car saw the wreck and stopped. Hammond came to in the ditch beside his car to find a neighbor applying first aid.
Besides the blow on the head, which had left an ugly welt across his scalp, both legs were broken. Fortunately the glass in his car was nonbreakable, and he had suffered no disfiguring cuts.
The cause of the accident proved to be a loose front wheel, which had come off, completely tipping the car half over. It had all occurred so suddenly that he had no clear notion of just what had happened to him, but he assumed that his head had hit one of the top braces, and that his legs had been broken when he was thrown over the door.
Never at any time did he suspect that his accident had been inspired and carefully planned.
But a few days later Jim Neenan, with a smile more deeply insinuating than ever, again called at the offices of Thomas Forsythe. He carried with him a copy of an afternoon paper just off the press.
“Perhaps you’ve noticed that I’ve made good on that radio campaign stuff,” he announced, pointing to a story on the front page.
Forsythe took the paper and read an announcement by Hammond’s political manager. The latter would be confined to his room and bed until long after the State convention, his doctor had predicted, but would doubtless be restored to complete health by election time.
In the meantime the physician saw no reason why the patient should not carry on such mental labor as the pre-convention campaign required, as soon as he had completely recovered from the first shock of the accident. It had therefore been arranged that he should deliver a limited number of speeches by radio, from a telephone in his room connecting with the broadcasting station.