Tressidar extricated himself from his uncomfortable position. Although considerably shaken, he was practically unhurt. His first thoughts upon realising that there had been a smash was for the other former occupants of the car. Some distance from and well above him the dimmed light of one of the lamps still flickered. The other had been extinguished, either by the sudden jolt or owing to the glass being fractured. He could distinguish the voices of Doris and Norah and the mild expostulation of Mr. Greenwood to the accompaniment of the bark of the Irish terrier.
He started to ascend the incline. It was so steep that he wondered why the car had not crashed to the bottom of the valley instead of lodging a mere thirty or forty feet below the road.
Before he had taken half a dozen steps his foot came in contact with a human body. It was Dr. Cardyke, still gripping the steering-wheel. The impact had snapped the steering-column like a carrot, and the doctor, describing a parabola over the shattered screen, had carried the wheel with him.
"Hurt?" enquired the sub. anxiously.
"No, only meditating," replied the imperturbable doctor. "I'll be all right in a few minutes. See to the others, please."
The two girls and the A.P. had already alighted, more or less gracefully, while Greenwood senior was wedged in between the seat and the sadly depleted hamper. All had come off lightly, but not so the car.
Its downward career had been stopped by a large boulder. The force of the impact had telescoped the fore part. The front wheels were shattered, the chassis splintered. As a car its days were ended.
"Where's Cardyke?" enquired Mr. Greenwood as he was being extricated from the wreckage.
"Nursing the steering-wheel," replied Tressidar. "He says he isn't hurt."
"Neither am I," added the doctor, who, having regained his feet, was toiling up the slope. "Sorry I landed you all in this pickle. Greenwood, I'm afraid your Ferncoombe Reservoir business is off."