Part 10 (1/2)

”It's going!” d.i.c.k panted, and threw the spanner down. ”Another knuckle skinned,” he added grimly.

As he stopped to wipe his hand, a loud humming came across the summit.

Then four lights leaped up and their united beam rushed down the pa.s.s.

”That fellow's driving very fast, but he has plenty of room,” d.i.c.k remarked, and Andrew, stepping back, saw that the tail-lamp of the motorcycle was burning well.

d.i.c.k got up, and Andrew moved out a yard or two across the road with the headlamp, half dazzled by the blaze of light that filled the glen.

Suddenly the stream of radiance wavered, and Andrew wondered whether the driver had lost his nerve on seeing the patch of stones, which perhaps looked larger than they were. Then he heard the wheels skid and loose metal fly as the car lurched across the road.

”Jump!” he shouted, violently hurling d.i.c.k back before he sprang out of the way.

He struck the motorcycle with his lame leg, staggered, and fell on the gravel close to the gate. For a moment or two he had not the courage to look up, and then, with keen relief, he saw d.i.c.k standing safe.

”The clumsy brute!” d.i.c.k cried, in a voice that sounded hoa.r.s.e with rage.

Running to the bicycle, he started it and jumped into the saddle. The red tail-light streamed away through the dark like a rocket, and when it grew dim, Andrew, standing shakily, saw Whitney beside him.

”He's gone mad!” Whitney exclaimed.

Andrew did not speak, and above the dying roar the big car made in the narrow hollow they heard a shrill buzzing that sounded strangely venomous.

”Forty miles an hour, anyway,” Whitney estimated. ”It would take a good car to get away from her. Is he fool enough to run into the back of it?”

”I don't know,” said Andrew. ”d.i.c.k's capable of anything when he's worked up. The curious thing is that his head is steadier than usual then.”

They waited until the sound grew fainter and then died away.

”I am going down the glen,” Andrew said.

They had not gone far when they heard a motor panting up hill to meet them, and a minute later d.i.c.k's car ran past and he waved his hand.

”Hotel gate!” he shouted. ”Don't want to stop!”

When they reached the gate, d.i.c.k was waiting. Andrew turned the light on him, and started at the sight which met him. d.i.c.k's face was white and strained and smeared with blood, and he was evidently laboring under an emotion not wholly due to anger and excitement.

Even in the sudden flash past them of the automobile Andrew thought he had recognized the car as one belonging to Appleyard--a low, gray car which Staffer always used. He had believed that the lurch which nearly cost them their lives was due to reckless driving; but there was a tenseness in d.i.c.k's expression which he could not quite understand.

”Did you overtake the car?” he asked.

”No,” said d.i.c.k, with a forced grin; ”I took the bank and I'm afraid the machine is something the worse for it. I was gaining and close to the car when we got down to the bottom of the glen. You know it's very narrow there.”

Whitney nodded. There was a sharp bend where road and stream ran out side by side through the sharply contracted gap in the hills. The slope on both sides was very steep and there was only a strip of gra.s.s between the road and the water, seven or eight feet below.

”Yes; it's not the place I'd care to negotiate at full speed.”

”I meant to catch the car and ran on to the gra.s.s to get a wider sweep; but she wouldn't take the curve. Went straight up the hillside for a dozen yards and then threw me off. Luckily I fell into some fern and when I'd pulled myself together, I somehow got her down.”