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We want to save our lives, and we don't mind saving yours at the same time."
"That's more than fair with me. But is that all I'm to know?"
"If the information is any comfort to you: in a grey car which has been following us ever since we left St. Germain, is the man who--I believe--murdered Monsieur le Comte de Lorgnes on the Lyons rapide, and who--I know--tried last night to murder Mademoiselle Delorme."
"And I suppose that, in his big-hearted, wholesaler's way, he wouldn't mind making a bag of the lot of us tonight."
"I'm afraid you have reason..."
"If you're planning to put a crimp in his ambitions, sir, I've got a pistol I know how to use."
"Better have it handy, though I don't think we'll need it yet. Our present plan is merely to change cars with Leon and Marthe; the grey car will pa.s.s and go on ahead before we make the s.h.i.+ft; then you, mademoiselle and I follow in the touring car, the others in the limousine. If there's a trap, as we have every reason to antic.i.p.ate there will, the touring car will get through--or we'll hope so."
"Ah-h!" Jules used the tone of one who perceives enlightenment as a blinding flash. "Marthe and Leon are in on the dirty work too, eh?"
"What makes you think that?"
"Putting two and two together--what you've just told me with what I've been noticing and wondering about."
"Then you think those two--"
"Marthe and Leon," Jules p.r.o.nounced with deliberation, "are two very bad eggs, if you ask me. I shan't shed a solitary tear if something sad happens to them in this 'bus to-night."
There was no time then to delve into his reasons for this statement of feeling. The outskirts of Caen were dropping behind. Providentially, the first bend in the road to Bayeux afforded good cover on the side toward the town. Jules shut off the power as he made the turn, and braked to a dead stop in lee of a row of outhouses. Lanyard was on the ground as soon as the wheels ceased to turn, Jules almost as quickly.
"Now for your engine trouble," Lanyard instructed. "Nothing serious, you understand--simply an adjustment to excuse a few minutes' delay and lend colour to our impatience."
"Got you the first time," Jules replied, unlatching and raising one wing of the hood.
Lanyard moved toward the middle of the road and flagged the Delorme touring car as it rounded the turn, a few seconds later, at such speed that Leon was put to it to stop the car fifty yards beyond the limousine. The man jumped down and, followed by the maid, ran back, but before he reached the limousine was obliged to jump aside to escape the grey car which, tooled by a crack racing hand, took the corner on two wheels, then straightened out and tore past in a smother of dust, with its m.u.f.fler cut out and the exhaust bellowing like a machine-gun.
Lanyard counted four figures, two on the front seat, two in the tonneau. More than this, the headlong speed and the failing light rendered it impossible to see--though had the one been less and the other stronger, he could have gained little more information from inspection of those four shapes shrouded in dust coats and masked with goggles.
Watching its rear light dwindle, he fancied that the grey shadow was slowing down; but one could not be sure about that.
"There is something wrong, monsieur?"
The man Leon was at his elbow. Lanyard replied with the curt nod of a disgruntled motorist.
"Something--Jules can tell you," he said shortly.
"Meanwhile, Mademoiselle Delorme and I have decided not to wait. We've got no time to spare. We will take your car and go on."
"But, monsieur, I--" Leon began to expostulate.
The icy accents of Liane Delorme cut it: "Well, Leon: what is your objection?"
"Objection, madame?" the fellow faltered. "Pardon--but it is not for me to object. I--I was merely startled."
"Then get over that at once," he was advised; "and bring my jewelcase--Marthe will point it out to you--to the touring-car."
"Yes, madame, immediately."
"Also the lunch-hamper, if you please."
"a.s.suredly, monsieur."
Leon departed hastily for the limousine, where Marthe joined him, while Lanyard and Liane Delorme proceeded to the touring car.
"But what on earth do you want with that hamper, monsieur?"
"Hush, little sister, not so loud! Brother thinks he has another idea."
"Then Heaven forbid that I should interfere!"
Staggering under its weight, Leon shouldered the jewelcase and carried it to the touring car, where Liane superintended its disposal in the luggage-jammed tonneau. A second trip, less laborious, brought them the hamper. Liane uttered perfunctory thanks and called to Jules, who was still tinkering at the limousine engine with the aid of an electric torch.
"Come, Jules! Leave Leon to attend to what is required there."
"Very good, madame."
Jules strolled over to the touring car and settled down at the wheel.
Liane Delorme had the seat beside him.
Lanyard had established himself in a debatable s.p.a.ce in the tonneau to which his right was disputed by bags and boxes of every shape, size and description.
"How long, Jules, will Leon need--?"
"Five minutes, madame, if he takes his time about it."
"Then let us hasten."
They drew away from the limousine so quickly that in thirty seconds its headlights were all that marked its stand.
Lanyard studied the phosph.o.r.escent dial of his wrist.w.a.tch. From first to last the transaction had consumed little more than three minutes.
Liane slewed round to talk over the back of the seat.
"What time is it, monsieur?"
"Ten after nine. In an hour precisely the moon will rise."
"It will be in this hour of darkness, then..."
A bend in the road blotted out the stationary lights of the limousine.
There was no tail-light visible on the road before them. Lanyard touched Jules on the shoulder.
"Switch off your lights," he said--"all of them. Then find a place where we can turn off and wait till Leon and Marthe pa.s.s us."