Explore "The Disappearing Eye" by Fergus Hume on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
On examination, the Rippler appeared to have suffered but trifling hurt. Either by accident, or design, the flying lady had driven the machine straight through an ancient five-barred gate, which fortunately was much too decayed to present any serious obstacle. Across a stubbled field -- as the ripping and ploughing of the grounds showed -- the car had reeled drunkenly, until by its own weight it was bogged in the friable furrows. Here it had been deserted, with smashed lamps, a slightly damaged front, and with a considerable amount of paint scraped off. But an immediate test showed that the machinery was in excellent working order.
It was no easy task to restore the derelict to the hard levels of the high-road. But Cannington collected a gang of agriculturals from unknown quarters and we set to work. With spades and crowbars, broad weather-boards from an adjacent incomplete building as temporary tram-lines, and a tow-rope from Trent's machine to mine, we managed the job fairly expeditiously, considering the environment. With water from the nearest pond for the outside of the car, and oil and petrol for the interior, I managed to get the Rippler into working order, although she was more or less shaken, and did not run very smoothly. Fortunately the lady had abandoned her loot within half a mile of Murchester, so with careful driving I contrived to get over that distance in safety. After storing the Rippler in a convenient garage, to be repaired and overhauled, I went on to the Barracks with Cannington in Trent's motor.