"In that case," I said, "if there's any chance of our catching our man to-night, I'm not going to chuck it away. Put the light back and let us get on."
My mind was made up on the subject. One reason was that physical pain always makes me feel mad, and I would have given a great deal to get even with the Pirate for that reason alone. Besides, call it vanity or what you will, I wasn't going to let any one say I had allowed a scratch to bowl me over. So the moment Forrest had replaced the light, I resumed my seat in the car, asserting that I was fully capable of driving.
The detective attempted to dissuade me from the attempt, but I was bent upon having my own way. He did not argue the question at any length, for as soon as he was in the car I backed into the middle of the road and jammed on our highest speed.
In three minutes we were at Buntingford, and there we nearly ran into a group of people who were gathered in the middle of the road. They were discussing, as it happened, the appearance of the Pirate, who had passed through the town twenty minutes previously. Here Forrest made another futile attempt to persuade me to see a surgeon immediately, but I would not listen to him. We swept onward. I could scarcely see, but I sent the Mercédès along recklessly, stopping for nothing until we reached Ware. I would never have driven in the manner I did in calmer moments. Forrest told me afterwards that his journey on the Pirate's car was nothing to it, for the car rocked so from side to side of the road that he was never certain whether I was not steering for the hedges; while at every bend his heart was in his mouth when he realized that the wheels were never on the ground together.
On the outskirts of Ware we learned that the Pirate had been seen approaching the town, but that, instead of passing through the narrow streets, he had doubled back in the direction of Stevenage. He had kept his twenty minutes' start and I was for following him. Forrest was of another opinion.
"According to his usual custom, he is obviously avoiding the towns," he argued; "and if, as I still suspect, his hiding-place is in the vicinity of St. Albans, we shall stand some chance of cutting him off if we take the most direct route. He cannot be badly hurt, or we should have picked him up before this, and under any other circumstance we are not likely to overtake him."
I saw the force of his reasoning and we flew on. We heard nothing of him neither in Hertford nor in Hatfield.
"Our only chance is at St. Albans," remarked my companion, and once more I put my car to top speed.
We were just about half way between the two towns when we saw the lights of a motor ahead. I sounded the horn, or rather Forrest did, but the vehicle made no attempt to get out of the way. We caught up to the stranger hand over fist, and not until we were nearly touching did I slacken speed.
As I did so the occupant of the car shouted out, "That you, Sutgrove? Never more pleased to meet with a friend in my life."