"I was just thinking the same thing," Wallion answered.
At the same moment McTuft put on the brake, for a lad of about fifteen was coming from the opposite direction on a bicycle, and the Scotsman called out:
"Hallo, boy!"
"Boy yourself," retorted the lad, stopping. "Say, is there a motor-race on this evening, eh?"
"Have you met a black-covered car?"
"I have, and, my eye, it could run too; it dashed past me like a shot."
"How long since you saw it?"
"Ten minutes or so."
McTuft started the car and remarked: "They haven't got far ahead." Trees and bushes flew past and the travelers felt as if they were sitting still in the midst of a hurricane. Black pools of water were visible on the left, as they rushed past detached villas and groups of houses on the sea front. Now and then they met a car, which carefully turned aside to let them pass, and in a few seconds was left far in the rear.
But shortly afterwards, when the car was beginning to toil up a long ascent, almost parallel with the beach, McTuft again applied his brakes, and pulled up in front of a signboard which read: