There was a jolt, a sudden dip, and the sixteen-foot plank sagged under the weight of the car. A moment of suspense; then there was a more serious jolt as the front wheel apparently left the plank and struck the bank of earth on the further side, just high enough to make a passage for itself through the loose soil at the edge. The two front wheels were through. Alter an almost imperceptible interval the third wheel dropped from the end of the plank on to the earth, and immediately afterwards the fourth wheel. The gyro-car was safely across.
Almost before either George or his brother could fully realise the narrow escape they had had, the car was forty or fifty yards down the road.
“Shall we stop?” asked George, panting with relief. “I’d like a word with that ass.”
“No, go on,” said Maurice quietly. He was looking back towards the gap. “They are there!”
“The Count?”
“I don’t see him, but there are others. You were too busy to notice them, but just as we came to the gap I saw several men jump up from behind the wall and help to hoist the chauffeur over. The whole thing was planned.”
“Great Scott! How in the world did they get there in time?”
“I expect they wired or ’phoned from Calais last night. They knew we must take this road if making for Italy, and their agents must have left Paris early to find a convenient place for waylaying us. They couldn’t have chosen a better one, though, of course, the opening in the road was purely accidental You’re a wonder, George. I should never have had the nerve to do it.”
“My dear chap, you would run the car across Niagara on a tight-rope if you knew it as well as I do. But hang it all!—I hope it isn’t damaged. Don’t you think we might pull up for a minute to have a look?”
“We had better go on. The Count will be here before long to see how his trap had succeeded, and the sooner we are beyond his lordship’s reach the better. We are not out of the wood yet.”