"You're taking the place of one of your own drivers for the week-end," answered the Saint. "We should have preferred to do it out on the road under normal working conditions, but I'm afraid you would have made too much noise. This is the best substitute we were able to arrange, and I think it'll work all right. Do you know what it is?"
Flager shook his head.
"I don't care what it is! Listen here, you "
"It's a gadget for testing people's ability to drive," said the Saint smoothly. "When I turn another switch, the steering wheel you have there will be synchronised with the film. You will then be driving over the road yourself. So long as you keep on the road and don't try to run into the other traffic, everything will be all right. But directly you make a movement that would have taken you off the road or crashed you into another car — or a cyclist, brother — the film will stop for a moment, a red light will light up on top of the screen, and I shall wake you up like this."
Something swished through the air, and a broad stinging piece of leather which felt like a razor strop fell resoundingly across Sir Melvin's well-padded shoulders.
Flager gave a yelp of anguish; and the Saint laughed softly.
"We'll start right away," he said. "You know the rules and you know the penalties — the rules are only the same as your own employees have to obey, and the penalties are really much less severe. Wake up, Flager — you're off!"
The third switch snapped into place, and Flager grabbed blindly at the steering wheel. Almost at once the picture faltered, and a red light glowed on top of the screen.
Smack! came the leather strap across his shoulders.
"Damn you!" bellowed Flager. "What are you doing this for?"