Renwick glared at the other, but he returned the look with an impudent composure, and Renwick, in fear of losing his self-control, at last turned away. Nothing was to be gained by this controversy. After all, what difference did the fellow's presence make? As a source of danger he had already proved himself a negligible quantity. So Renwick with an ill grace at last acquiesced, and within an hour they were on their way, crossing the Danube and turning to their right along a rough road by the Fruska mountains.
The first accident happened before the machine reached Sarengrad, a blowout which made another tire a necessity. The second, a broken leaf of a spring, which made rapid travel hazardous. But it was not until nightfall, in the midst of a desolation of plains, that carburetor trouble of a most disturbing character developed. Renwick paced up and down, offering advice and suggestion and then swearing in all the languages he knew, but the chauffeur only shrugged and sputtered, while the tall man gurgled soothingly. An hour they remained there when Renwick's patience became exhausted, and he gave way to the suspicion which had for some time obsessed him, that the pair of them were conspiring to delay him upon his way.
He came up behind the tall man who was bending over the open hood of the car, and catching him roughly by the elbow, swung him around and faced him angrily.
"I've had about enough of this," he said. "Either that car moves in five minutes or one of you will be hurt."
He moved his hand toward his pocket to draw his weapon but his wrist was caught in midair by a grip of steel that held Renwick powerless. The Englishman was stronger than most men of his weight and made a sharp struggle to get loose, but the man in black disarmed him as he would have disarmed a child, and calmly put the pistol into his own pocket. It was not until then that his bulk had seemed so significant, and the real purpose of his presence been so apparent. There was no use in battling with this melancholy Colossus who might, if he wished, break every bone in Renwick's body.
"Herr Renwick, if it will please you to be reasonable," he said, releasing the Englishman and speaking as if soothing a spoiled child.
At the mention of his name, Renwick drew back in growing wonder.
"Who—who are you?" he asked.
"My name is Gustav Linke," he said suavely. "I have been sent to keep you from coming to harm. You see"——and he patted the pocket which contained Renwick's pistol, "it is not difficult to run into danger when one is always pulling one's pistol out."
"Who sent you?" demanded Renwick furiously.