This much Sefton took in with a glance as he leapt from the car. Fatigue and sleepiness had vanished in an instant. All he realized was that a party of motorists was being molested by a gang of armed roughs, and that was enough.
With Farnworth limping close at his heels, Sefton ran to the rescue. An encouraging shout from his companion caused the armed ruffian to turn.
Brandishing his pistol, he shouted a warning to the two new-comers to "clear out and mind their own business".
Undeterred by the sight of the weapon, the two subs bounded forward. A couple of bullets whizzed past Sefton's head, one of the pieces of nickel chopping a slice out of the lobe of Farnworth's left ear.
Before Hans could fire again, the deep report of a heavy revolver rang out, followed by a bluish puff of smoke from underneath the overturned car.
Clapping his hands to his side, the German spun round three times and collapsed to the ground.
As he passed, Sefton kicked the fellow's pistol, sending it flying a dozen yards. If the Hun were playing 'possum, the sub meant to take no unnecessary risks.
In ten seconds the struggle was over. A powerful blow from Farnworth's clenched fist made George's assailant relax his grip on the lad's throat and fall like a log.
Leslie's antagonist, who was fast choking the plucky lad into a state of insensibility, broke away, and, with a yell of terror, fled for his life, hotly pursued by Jack Sefton. Realizing that he was being outstripped, the miscreant made straight for the lake and plunged in.
Vainly the sub waited for him to rise to the surface. Either the man's head had struck against some hard substance at the bottom or else he had become entangled in the weeds.