"That's no Ford," she said. "It's coming from over there." And she pointed toward Oxshott.
"You're right," said Anthony. "Got your gun—give it to me."
"What for?"
"Because that car is going to stop whether it wants to or not."
Flora clapped her hands ecstatically.
"Oh, let me hold 'em up," she pleaded.
"No fear. You've risked enough already. Run round the bend and meet 'em. If they won't pull up for you they will for me."
He took the pistol from Flora and planted himself squarely in the middle of the road.
"Off you go." And she went.
Through the darkness ahead came patterns of light making black lace of the twigs and branches. He heard Flora cry "Stop—stop," and the squawk of a Claxon horn. But still the car came on. It swung round the curve and made directly for him, flooding him in light from the heads.