There was a moment's uproar when, wishing for a better view, the driver of a tawdry ekka urged his half-starved pony forward.
The bay caught the side of the pony's bleeding mouth, causing the wretched animal to rear from pain and twist sideways into a bullock cart.
In its usual leisurely way the bullock swung itself also sideways, and almost under the bay's feet, causing him to lose a precious second, for which Cuxson made up by a ruthless use of his spurs, whilst before Leonie's eyes, quite close, through the trees, appeared the funnels and masts of the river craft.
"Oh!" she said involuntarily, having retained no impression during her motor drives of the road to Kidderpore; as the Devil tore with her across the old polo ground and the old Ellenborough course, straight to the crowded Strand Road.
And then she sighed a little sigh of relief, for the bay heaved alongside and a hand stretched for her bridle.
Side by side they clattered across the Strand towards the Prinseps
Ghat, standing just as ostracised and white as the Marble Arch.
Would the two horses crash headlong into the columns, or would the
Devil yield in time to the strong hand pulling on the bit?
Neither.
Terrified by the shouts of the populace, and the shrill whistling from the river, he raced along so close to the left side of the monument that Cuxson's boot scratched against the stone.
But as they crashed across the Strand and the sharp incline on the other side of the railway lines appeared, Cuxson, knowing that the moment had arrived, dropped his reins, and gripping the bay with his knees, leant over towards Leonie as she dropped her reins, and loosening her grip on the pommel, prepared to break her neck or her back or both as she slipped from the saddle.