"What's that you say? ... You want to remain here? ... But what about the car?"
The Scotsman's red hair seemed to stand on end; he had taken off his cap and was staring at Wallion as at one who had suddenly taken leave of his senses.
"Can I speak to the landlord?" said Wallion, turning to the man, who stood there gaping.
"He has gone away, the hotel is closed for alterations."
"But it seems that there are chauffeurs?"
"Yes, we have the garage to let."
"We are wasting time," said McTuft in despair. Wallion looked at him and smiled.
"You are right, McTuft, I have changed my plans. Go after Dixon's car at once and stop it; perhaps Murner and I will come on later; no arguing ... be off." Wallion had spoken in a tone of command. The Scotsman straightened himself, bit his lip, and said, "All right."
Tom had only just time to get out before the car started and disappeared round the corner.
"What does all this mean?" asked Tom confusedly.