At the top of the track, where it joined the road, several of Braxa's more energetic citizens were sheltering from the rays of the sun. As the car approached they all moved forward in a desultory fashion to scan its occupants; and one of them, a stout gentleman in uniform, with a sword trailing by his side, stepped out officiously into the roadway and held up his hand.
If he was under the impression that his action would cause the car to pull up, he must have been bitterly disappointed. Without faltering, or even slackening speed, its driver swerved round him at a distance of about two inches, and left him shouting and gesticulating wildly in the centre of a cloud of dun coloured dust.
A few yards further on, the road turned away inland, and as soon as they had negotiated the corner, Jimmy glanced back over his shoulder.
"We've torn it now," he observed complacently. "That was one of the policemen."
Tony nodded. "I thought it must be," he said. "He looked so well fed."
"Is there anything he can do?" inquired Molly; "except to try and arrest the Betty?"
"He might send a message to Portriga asking for instructions," answered Jimmy. "It all depends on whether he's got a suspicious nature."
He turned back to concentrate his attention on the steering, for they were passing through the main street of Braxa, and one or two small carts, with sleepy-looking pairs of oxen attached to them, were straggling amiably about the roadway.
"I'm sorry now that we didn't run over him," said Molly regretfully.
"We might go back and do it," replied Tony; "but I think on the whole we had better trust to Providence. If Providence is really with us one policeman can't make very much difference."