Mr Frazer advanced the notes closer to the man.
"Is it a deal? It won't hurt the car."
"No; it won't hurt the car."
"Then put the pair into your pocket; why not?"
"All right; I'm on."
The man subjected the notes to an attentive scrutiny. Apparently he knew a good note when he saw one, because, lifting up his poncho, he put them into his jacket pocket with an air of satisfaction.
"There's a good deal of dust about," observed Mr Frazer, in that casual way of his. "Have you anything in the way of a cloak which the lady might slip on while you're pushing through it?--and a pair of goggles, which will keep it out of her eyes?"
"There's the missus' dust cloak in the back there--she might put that on, and there are some goggles in here."
He unbuttoned a leather flap.
"Make it two pairs, if it runs to it--I could do with some as well." He was shrouding the girl in a long, tan-coloured garment, with a hood to it. She drew the hood well over her hat, and, under his directions, buttoned it under her chin. There was a mutinous glint in her eyes; one felt that she would have dearly liked to express strong disapproval of the whole proceeding; but, somehow, the matter-of-fact, take-it-for-granted air with which he bore himself, seemed to have on her a mesmeric influence which kept her dumb. Having inducted her into the back seat of the car, and arranged a rug about her knees, he handed her some goggles. When they were in their place her identity was concealed beyond all likelihood of recognition. He used a second pair, which the driver produced from the leather flap, for himself, slipped on a sort of oilskin coat, and a cloth cap--both of which articles, it seemed, belonged to the "governor"--and, seating himself beside the chauffeur, said: "Now, let her whiz!"