"I got the blessed old lamps alight," said Bobby, "and the blessed old car going, and I'd gone scarcely half a mile when I saw before me, after I'd rounded a bend of the road, a cart going full speed. It was one of those gipsy sort of carts that fellows hawk chickens and things about in, harness half string, and an old horse like a scarecrow to look at, but like a steam engine to go. There were two men in the cart, and one was Giveen. Though it was pretty dusk, I could tell him, for he'd taken his hat off, and his bald head shone like a stone. He evidently met the cart and paid the man for a lift.
"'Now,' said I to myself, slowing down a bit so that I could think, 'what am I to do? If I try to seize him by force the fellow he's with will help him to resist, maybe, and, if he doesn't, he's sure to tell about the affair at the next village, and I'll have the police on to me. I know—a smash-up is the only thing. I'll ram them full speed and hang the damage. I stand as good a chance to be killed as either of them. If Giveen is killed, or the sweep he's with—well, it's the fortune of war. If none of us is killed, I'll sit on Giveen's head and send the other Johnnie for help. Then, while he's gone, I'll nobble Giveen and drag him back to the cottage, across country this time, and leave the old motor to look after herself.'"
"Did you really intend to do that?" asked Violet Grimshaw, looking at Bobby with a mixture of wonder and admiration.
"Intend to do it? Why, I did it, only the old car didn't. I shoved the lever full speed ahead, and what does she do but stop dead and shoot me on to her bonnet!"
"Did Giveen see you?" asked French.
"No. He never looked back once, and he and the old cart he was in vanished in the dusk. It was when I got down to light the lamps that something happened to the machinery. I must have pulled up too sharp, for I heard something go in the fore part of the engine. Anyhow, I was done for.
"Well, there was nothing for me to do but look for help, and at last I got a farmer chap to hire me two horses to drag the old rattle-trap back to Southend. That was cheerful, wasn't it? At Southend I found a motor-repairing shop, the only one in the town, and the mechanic who did the repairing out with a car that wouldn't be back till midnight. So I paid for the horses and sent them off, and got a bed for the night.
"Well, to cut it short, I was up at six this morning, got the car mended in less than a quarter of an hour, and back I went to London full speed. But the repairs and the horse hire and the bed had taken all my money, and I had only sixpence in my pocket; and I hadn't eaten for I don't know how long. I stopped at a village on the way and had a drink of water at a pump.
"'Never mind,' I said to myself, 'when I get to the Albany I can borrow something from Robert'—he's my servant, you know. But when I got to the Albany Robert wasn't there, and my rooms were locked up. You see, he thought I wasn't coming back for some time, and I always send him a wire the day before I come. It was just eight o'clock, and I was as hungry as anything, but I was in such a tearing rage that I never thought of borrowing money from anyone, as I might have done. Sixpence is no use for food in the West End, so I sent you a wire with it, got some more petrol at Simpson's, and came down here full speed."
French got up and took Mr. Dashwood's hand and shook it.