I found Ivanovitch staring at me keenly. I looked back at him in inquiry. “Is that the signal?” I whispered.
“That is the signal. Presently you shall see an example of efficient organization.”
The Klaxon signal blew again at this moment, and the driver kept it up at regular intervals for perhaps five minutes. But presently the usual interval passed without a signal, and instantly Ivanovitch opened the rear window and seized my arm.
“Come and see,” he said, his voice exultant and vicious.
I went to the window and looked back into the darkness. I could make out the faint sound of another car following ours.
And as I watched there came a sudden blinding flash in the road only some twenty yards behind us followed by a deafening roar.
We must have passed over the spot only a few seconds before. The explosion was followed by the screech of brakes hastily applied. But they were not applied quickly enough, for as our own car quickened its speed, I heard another clanging crash behind us. It was evident that we had been outwitted again.
I turned to find Ivanovitch’s ironical eyes on me.
“Pretty neat, eh?” he inquired. “Whoever our friends are there behind us, they will not follow us again in a hurry, do you think so?”
I pulled myself together and tried to push out of my mind the thought of Pride lying back there in the road, maimed and bleeding.