“Now,” said Stranleigh, “we will see who is the coward. I’ll lay a wager with you that this car tumbles off the bank before five minutes are past.”
Stranleigh with his heels was working the two outside pegs, and the car acted as if it were drunker than a lord, and almost as drunk as the valet.
“In God’s name,” cried the latter, “let me go. We shall be wrecked in a moment.”
“No, we won’t.”
“I implore you, Lord Stranleigh!”
“I’ll save your life, but will give you a lesson against attempted blackmail.”
He steered to the edge of the bank, then pressed the middle peg, and stopped the car. Rising and carrying Parkes with him, he hurled him headlong over the slight earthy precipice into the water, which was shallow at that point. Parkes arose spluttering, and found Stranleigh had turned the car round, and with a smile on his face, was looking down at his dripping victim.
“You’ll suffer for this!” cried Parkes, shaking his fist at him. “We’re in a country, thank God, where we think very little of lords.”
“Oh, I don’t think much of lords myself, in any country,” replied Stranleigh suavely, “and even less of their valets, notwithstanding I’ve a very good one myself. Now listen to my advice. I shall be in the United States before you can reach a telephone, and I don’t see how you can get me back unless I wish to return. I advise you not to stir up the police. The Duke of Rattleborough cabled to me that a certain section of that useful body is anxious to hear of you. Call on Mr. Sterling, and whatever he thinks is just compensation for your introduction I will pay, but before you get the money, you must ensure both of us against further molestation in any way.”
Stranleigh drove up to the shop on Woodbridge Street, and listened to the account Sterling gave of Parkes’ visit and conversation, and his explanation of how he had come to allow him to drive the car.