Would he proceed promptly to put into execution whatever design he might have for injuring Ivan? Would not the disappointed passion that had led him to all but the commission of suicide now prompt him to murder his prisoner?
Clara sank back and covered her face with her hands, completely unnerved for the moment by the seeming imminence of catastrophe.
"When will the end come!" she moaned.
Mike looked on in honest and surprised distress, and Paul himself, knowing as he did the reasons for her excess of fear, was at his wits' end to suggest comfort.
Clara uncovered her eyes suddenly. They blazed with new determination.
"Michael," she cried, "could you overtake the car he is on?"
"I could try it, miss, but he's got a pretty good start."
"Try it, then. Don't spare the horse for just this once. If you come near to catching up, and he looks around, then drive more slowly, as if you were not able to keep up the pace, and finally stop altogether, let the car get away, and I'll tell you what to do next. Hurry!"
Mike did hurry.
The coupé started with a jolt as he lashed his astonished horse into a gallop.