“Well, good luck to them! Now then, here comes George; are we all ready?”
“I say,” said Cynthia suddenly. “I wonder what’s happening to poor Laura all this time? It’s nearly half-past eleven. Oughtn’t we to do something about her? But I suppose we can’t!”
It was the first time anybody had given a thought to poor Laura for almost an hour.
“By Jove, yes, Laura,” agreed her husband. “We must keep an eye open for her. I hope she doesn’t bring that fellow gaol-bird of hers back at an awkward moment. And what the deuce are we going to do about him?”
Had Guy but known it, that question was already in process of being answered for him at a spot some considerable distance away.
Chapter VI.
Adventures of a Pair of Handcuffs
When Mr. Priestley performed his masterly retreat from the scene of his crime it was without any definite plan in his head beyond reaching the waiting two-seater and reaching it very quickly. Blundering through shrubberies and over flower-beds, his speechless burden still in his arms, he made his way by a sort of blind instinct to the hedge that bordered the road. Through it he plunged manfully, heedless of the prickly twigs which scratched his face and hands and the dangling legs of his companion (a fact of which the companion herself was anything but heedless), and then at last set his burden on her feet.
But even then there was no time to waste in useless explanations or converse. Grabbing her handcuffed hand with a brief grunt, Mr. Priestley, that suddenly transformed man of leisure, set off at a round pace down the road. His companion, having no say in the matter, and no breath to say it with had she had one, followed. They reached the car and fell inside in a congested bundle.
The fact that it was Mr. Priestley’s left wrist which was tethered, made things a little awkward. For them to sit decorously side by side in the orthodox manner was out of the question, for the car’s gear-levers were on the right.
“I’ll stand on the running-board,” Mr. Priestley panted, “till we’re safely out of the way.” He scrambled nimbly over the side and did his best to anchor himself against it.