It took several minutes to set the gyroscopes running at full speed. Maurice was anxious to start before this, but George pointed out that they had better not appear in the street until the car was thoroughly ready, in case any of the Slavianski scouts were on the watch.
A few minutes after 5 o’clock they set off, running back through the Rue Royale thence into the Rue de Rivoli, until, having crossed the Place de la Bastille, they struck into the Avenue Daumesnil. There was little traffic as yet in that broad thoroughfare, except for the wagons of tradesmen and market gardeners coming into the city from the suburbs.
“We mustn’t go too fast while we’re within the walls,” said George, “but as soon as we’re outside I’ll let her rip, old man. Keep your eye on the map and tell me how to steer.”
Maurice had opened the map of Paris and spread it on his knees. Directed by him, George turned into the Rue de Charenton, left the city at the Charenton gate, after exchanging a pleasant word with the officer, and then set the car spinning along until they came to the bridge over the Canal de Marne. Being now beyond the probable risk of interference, George increased the speed to thirty-five miles an hour, which he maintained for forty minutes, until they reached the outskirts of Melun. There the road made a sharp descent.
“Slow down here,” said Maurice anxiously. “This hill is dangerous, according to the Guide, and the pavé is rather slippery with dew. A sideslip here would break us up.”
Reducing speed to fifteen miles an hour, they ran down the hill. Before they had reached the foot of it they saw, on turning a bend, that the road about two hundred yards ahead was broken for mending on the right-hand side—the side on which they were travelling, according to the rule of the road in France. A thin rope was stretched half-way across the road, supported on a light iron rod, from which hung a lantern, that had, no doubt, been lit during the night. It was not yet 6 o’clock, and no labourers were on the spot; but on the left-hand side of the road, where there was a space between the excavation and a wall just wide enough for the passage of an ordinary market cart, a small motor-car was approaching the gap in the same direction as the gyro-car at a low speed. There was plenty of time for it to pass through the narrowed portion of the roadway before the gyro-car overtook it, so George did not reduce his speed any further, but sounded his hooter as a measure of precaution.
The motor-car crawled on towards the gap, the chauffeur throwing a glance over his shoulder, as if to see whether he had time to win through before the vehicle behind overtook him. Moment by moment the space between the two cars diminished. The gyro-car was within a few yards of the narrow portion of the road, when suddenly the motor stopped dead, completely blocking the passage, and the chauffeur sprang from his seat towards the wall bordering the road on the near side. George involuntarily let out a cry. There was no time to consult with Maurice, nor even to hesitate between two courses. The momentum of the gyro-car was so great that it could not be checked before dashing into the stationary vehicle. To the left was the wall, to the right an excavation several feet deep. Across it lay a narrow plank, used, no doubt, by the workmen in wheeling their barrows from one side of the hole to the other.
A DESPERATE EXPEDIENT
It was supported on the nearer side upon some loose earth that had been thrown up from below. What the support on the further side was George could not pause to determine. His brother had waxed satirical about his unpunctuality, but in this critical moment, when there was only an instant of time for decision, the boy showed a surprising quickness. There was one desperate chance of avoiding a collision, which, even if it did not result in personal injury, might at least cripple the car. He steered straight for the plank.