“What the devil is up?” cried the Professor, seizing his arm.
“The morning star has fallen!” said Syme, as his own car went down the darkness like a falling star.
The others did not understand his words, but when they looked back at the street above they saw the hostile cavalry coming round the corner and down the slopes after them; and foremost of all rode the good innkeeper, flushed with the fiery innocence of the evening light.
“The world is insane!” said the Professor, and buried his face in his hands.
“No,” said Dr. Bull in adamantine humility, “it is I.”
“What are we going to do?” asked the Professor.
“At this moment,” said Syme, with a scientific detachment, “I think we are going to smash into a lamppost.”
The next instant the automobile had come with a catastrophic jar against an iron object. The instant after that four men had crawled out from under a chaos of metal, and a tall lean lamp-post that had stood up straight on the edge of the marine parade stood out, bent and twisted, like the branch of a broken tree.
“Well, we smashed something,” said the Professor, with a faint smile. “That’s some comfort.”
“You’re becoming an anarchist,” said Syme, dusting his clothes with his instinct of daintiness.