The boulevard was empty. We just swept up it like a black squall.
Left and right, then, and we entered the straight—with thirty seconds to go.
"Some way up," breathed Piers.
I set my teeth hard and let my lady out….
By the time I had sighted the station, the speedometer's needle had swung to seventy-three….
I ran alongside the pavement, clapped on the brakes, threw out the clutch.
Piers switched off, and we flung ourselves out of the car.
Stiff as a sleepy hare, I stumbled into the hall.
"Le train pour Paris!" I shouted. "Ou est le train pour Paris?"
"This way!" cried Piers, passing me like a stag.