"Heaven knows!" the man replied, involuntarily lowering his voice. "I—I begin to believe that this Motor Pirate is—is the Devil."
"Nonsense, man!" I said sharply.
To tell the truth, my own nerves, in spite of the whisky, were in none too firm a condition; and I knew it would be fatal to allow myself to become infected by the very obvious funk which had seized upon my companion. I felt, however, I must be doing something unless I wanted to succumb.
"Look here," I said, "you wait by the car a few minutes, while I go two or three hundred yards further up the road, to see if I can find any other traces."
"I—I would much rather you—you didn't leave me," stammered the sergeant. "It's bad enough for there to be only the two of us."
"Come, pull yourself together," I replied roughly. "There's nothing to be afraid of."
"I don't think I can stand being left here alone," repeated the sergeant.
"Very well; you had better come along with me then," I replied.
He jumped into the car beside me with alacrity, and I started the motor, though not until I had arranged my revolver handily at my side. We went for a mile at our slowest pace in the direction of Stratford, and finding nothing, we returned, and covered the same distance in the direction of Towcester, with a similar result. Our progress was brought to a termination by our meeting with a trap containing the doctor, who was accompanied by a couple of constables. When we recognized who was approaching, the change that came over the demeanour of the sergeant was astonishing. All his courage came back to him. He talked to me quite easily as we returned to the scene of the outrage with the trap keeping close behind us; and when we pulled up, he took control of the proceedings as if he had never felt a moment's tremor in his life. He must have observed my astonishment, for he took me aside and said—
"I was a bit overcome just now, sir. You won't mention it before my men."