"Entirely, thank you."
"You got your man?"
"I did," said Halkett. "He's on his way here now. Good night. I'll sleep like a fox, old chap!"
"Good night," said Warner cheerily, enamored with his invention for the safety of the envelope, as well as with the entire adventure.
That night, while they both slept, far away southward, on a lonely road in the Vosges, the car which had rushed by under their windows was now drawn up on the edge of the road.
Four men sat in it, waiting.
Just as dawn broke, what they awaited came up out of the south—a far, faint rattle announced it, growing rapidly louder; and a motor cyclist, riding without lights, shot out of the grey obscurity, trailing a comet's tail of dust.
Head-on he came, like a streak, caught sight suddenly of the motionless car and of four men standing up in it, ducked and flattened out over his handlebars as four revolvers poured forth streams of fire.
Motor cycle and rider swerved into the ditch with a crash; the latter, swaying wide in his saddle, was hurled a hundred feet further through the air, landing among the wild flowers on the bank above.
He was the man to whom Halkett had telephoned.