The car crawled about a hundred yards farther, and then they were all startled by Dr. Bull breaking into a high crow of laughter.
“Why, you silly mugs!” he cried, “what did I tell you. That crowd’s as law-abiding as a cow, and if it weren’t, it’s on our side.”
“How do you know?” asked the professor, staring.
“You blind bat,” cried Bull, “don’t you see who is leading them?”
They peered again, and then the Colonel, with a catch in his voice, cried out—
“Why, it’s Renard!”
There was, indeed, a rank of dim figures running across the road, and they could not be clearly seen; but far enough in front to catch the accident of the evening light was stalking up and down the unmistakable Dr. Renard, in a white hat, stroking his long brown beard, and holding a revolver in his left hand.
“What a fool I’ve been!” exclaimed the Colonel. “Of course, the dear old boy has turned out to help us.”
Dr. Bull was bubbling over with laughter, swinging the sword in his hand as carelessly as a cane. He jumped out of the car and ran across the intervening space, calling out—
“Dr. Renard! Dr. Renard!”