"Didn't you hear me speak ?" He waited breathless, but there was no movement, no sound, and his hand, trembling, in spite of his iron nerve, groped its way upward.
She was lying back against the opposite window, her head bent sideways.
"My God," he thought, "did those devils get her ?" He lifted her slight figure up on one arm, all else blotted out, all other memory vanished through this instant dread.

His cheek stung where flying splinters had struck him, but that was nothing.

She was warm, her flesh was warm; then his searching fingers felt the moist blood trickling down from the edge of her hair.

He let out his breath slowly, the sudden relief almost choking him.

It was bad enough surely, but not what he had first feared, not death.