“Wal!” said the tall man, finally facing them completely and snapping the case of his watch shut in a very business-like way. “Got ye that time, I swan! Comin’ fifty mile an hour if ye was an inch——”
Suddenly he discovered that he was not entirely a stranger to the touring party. His mouth sagged open for a moment and he did not continue his remarks before Neale got in a word or two.
“You are very much mistaken, constable,” he said. “I could not drive this car on this road at the speed you state—and if you knew anything about an auto you’d know it, too.”
“Oh, don’t, Neale!” whispered Ruth, from behind.
“So! I’ve seen ye before, have I, young cock o’ the walk?” snarled the constable. “You was running over speed, an’ don’t you fergit it. And I’m goin’ to take ye all back to Tuckerville and let Jedge Winslow tell ye sumpin’.”
“Oh, dear me!” moaned Agnes. “And we haven’t had breakfast!”
Mrs. Heard here put in her word—and she spoke sternly:
“You are making a grave mistake, Mr. Officer. We do not drive our automobile at any time faster than the law allows. And certainly we were not doing so now. How do you know how fast we were coming? You could not even see us until we came around that curve.”
“Oh, I’ve had experience, I have, ma’am,” said the fellow with a mean grin on his homely face.
“This is a regular hold-up!” exclaimed Neale, in wrath. “Why didn’t you pull a gun and tell us to hold up our hands while you went through our pockets? It wouldn’t be any worse.”