“Yes, and I shall say you are not fit for your job if you can’t manage a trifle like that. It will be great fun. With luck we should get to Brindisi as soon as the train: and if you’re game to do without sleep, or take turns with me at snatching a nap, we’ll beat the train.”
“The roads in south Italy are pretty bad, you know.”
“So are the railways, I’ll go bail. Besides, we don’t want such a good road as the ordinary motor. I’m sure we can do it.”
“Very well; I’m game, as you put it. There’s this advantage, that if we come to grief——”
“My dear chap, we shan’t come to grief; that is, unless we are smashed up by some scorching motorist.”
“I wasn’t thinking of a smash-up. We may find ourselves held up for want of a licence, you know, and have no end of trouble. What I was going to say was that we can join the train anywhere en route. If they find we don’t leave Paris by it, they’ll not travel by it themselves. We’ve several hours’ start of them, allowing for the Admiralty launch, and if we go straight ahead we shall be a good many miles on our way before the train starts, even; the Turin train doesn’t leave Paris until 2.10 to-morrow afternoon. We shall have time for a rest in Paris, and even then start several hours ahead.”
“Ripping, old man. This will be better sport than going to Scotland with Aunt Muriel. Here’s Harbledown; we shall be in Dover in another three-quarters of an hour.”
It was a quarter to four when they left Herne Hill. At twenty minutes past six they arrived at Dover. They ran straight down to the Admiralty harbour, where the launch, with steam up, was awaiting them. It was a temporarily awkward matter, getting the gyro-car on to the launch, for no preparations had been made for that. But British tars are handy fellows. At a word from the lieutenant ten men, five on each side, lifted the vehicle bodily and carried it on to the deck. Maurice gave a hurried explanation to the officer, and scribbled a telegram to Mrs. Courtenay-Greene to say that George would not be home for a few days. He handed this to one of the harbour men, the vessel cast off, and the two brothers mounted to the bridge at the lieutenant’s invitation.
Just as the launch was getting under way, George suddenly called Maurice’s attention to a large motor-car dashing down the hill above at a somewhat dangerous speed. It was coloured yellow.
“Hanged if old Slavianski isn’t on our tracks already!” he cried. “By Jove! I wonder how many policemen he has knocked over!”