His first thought was that she was injured and his instinct was to rush back to her, screw the race. But then he realized with his next thought that she was shamming, and very cleverly done, he had to admit, a twisted smile crossing his lips. He leaned down when she grabbed him, taking in her words and nodding his acquiescence, as he noted with grim satisfaction her realistic cries of pain. He raced through the French doors which opened out onto the back veranda, screaming, "Bella's been hurt, Bella's been hurt," as he beckoned to every house elf within screaming range to follow him.
He made sure that several followed him back out through the door, including the one that was his actual target - a middle-aged, for a hour elf, stupid looking git with a bad habit of thinking too much at the wrong times, and acting as if he had some sort of free will.
He herded them toward the writhing figure upon the ground, even as he added to the confusion and noise that Bella was making by screaming out, "Help her, help her, help!" in panic stricken tones.