“We will cross the ferry, and run up along the Canadian shore as far as Lake St. Clair.”
The road continued along the river bank, with no fences on the left side. Although residences were fairly numerous, there was little traffic on the highway. The car was running at a moderate pace when the chauffeur suddenly diverted it towards the river, and with an exceedingly narrow margin escaped tumbling down the bank.
“I say,” murmured Stranleigh, “I don’t like that you know.”
“There’s worse to come,” said the chauffeur menacingly. “You will promise to pay me a hundred thousand dollars, or I will dash you and the car over the edge into the river. If you consider your life worth that sum, speak quickly.”
“Ah, it is you, Parkes? I hope you realise that you will dash yourself over at the same time?”
“I know that, but I’m a desperate man. Just get that through your head.”
“You are aware that a promise given under duress is not binding?”
“Stow talk!” roared Parkes. “Say ‘yes’ or ‘no.’”
“I say ‘No!’” replied Stranleigh, so quietly that the other was unprepared for the prompt action which followed. Stranleigh flung his arms around the man, and jerked him backward from his wheel. His lordship was in good athletic condition; the ex-valet had looked too much on the wine when it was red, and on the highball when it sparkled in the glass. He felt helpless as a child.