A car came flying towards us. At the last I remarked with a smile it was going our way. A flash of paint, a smack like the flap of a sail, and we were by.
A farm was coming. I saw the white of its walls swelling to ells from inches. I saw a hen, who had seen us, starting to cross our path. Simultaneously I lamented her death—needlessly. She missed destruction by yards. I found myself wondering whether, after all, she had held on her way. Presently I decided that she had and, anxious to retrace her steps, had probably awaited our passage in some annoyance….
We swam up another hill, flicked between two waggons, slashed a village in half and tore up the open road.
The daylight was waning now, and Piers switched on the hooded light that illumined the instrument-board. With a frown I collected my lady for one last tremendous effort before the darkness fell.
She responded like the thoroughbred she was.
I dared not glance at the speedometer, but I could feel each mile as it added itself to our pace. I felt this climb from ninety to ninety-one. Thickening the spark by a fraction, I brought it to ninety-two … ninety-three…. In a quiet, steady voice, Piers began to give me the benefit of his sight.
"Something ahead on the right … a waggon … all clear … cart, I think, on the right … no—yes. It's not moving…. A bicycle on the left … and another … a car coming … all clear … no—a man walking on the right … all clear…."
So, our narrowed eyes nailed to the straight grey ribbon streaming into the distance, the sea and the waves roaring in our ears, folded in the wings of the wind, we cheated Dusk of seven breathless miles and sent Nature packing with a fork in her breech.
Sore at this treatment, the Dame, as ever, returned, with Night himself to urge her argument.
I threw in my hand with a sigh, and Piers switched on the lights as we ran into Aire-sur-l'Adour.