‘Drive tae h—, where ye belang!’ he said, as the car lurched furiously down the hill.
Then he stood and listened. A sharp-pitched throbbing now rose from the valley, through which the high-road wound on the other side of the water. It sounded like a motor bicycle, and Moir understood the impatience of the men he had stopped. Jardine’s scouts had got upon their track, but the chances were against the fugitives reaching the bridge where the roads joined. He waited with his face fixed like stone until he heard a heavy crash in the dark below. Then he picked up his lantern and ran down the hill.
When he reached the bottom everything was quiet except for the roar of Ewan Water and the hum of the approaching bicycle, but pieces of the broken gate lay about the road. Moir raised the lantern and saw a track deeply ploughed through the grass and stones, in front of which the hedge was smashed. Looking down through the gap, he distinguished something in the water. It looked like the wheel of an upset car, but he could not see it well, because the torrent foamed in an angry swirl across what lay below. If the men had not jumped before the plunge, it was too late for help.
A minute later, the motor bicycle rattled across the bridge a short distance off and sped towards him. It slowed and Lieutenant Jardine got down.
‘Have you seen a car, David?’ he asked.
‘I hae,’ said Moir. ‘Let yere machine stand. She’s in the pool.’
The young man followed him to the broken hedge and looked down. ‘What about the men?’
‘Maybe they jumpit aff. If no’, they’re under her.’
Lieutenant Jardine, who had seen no active service yet, caught his breath with a short gasp.
‘How long will it take to get her out?’