"Come along," he said coolly; "plenty of time."
But for one fact, it is probable that his statement would have proved true. This fact unfortunately just made all the difference. The sudden stoppage had flung Jimmy forward with such force against the steering-wheel that all the breath had been knocked clean out of his body, and for the moment he was as completely helpless as any human being could possibly be.
Seeing what had happened, Tony darted round to the other side of the car, and catching him in his arms, lifted him bodily out of the seat. Even while he was doing so, the first paralysing effects of the blow began to wear off; but the delay—brief as it had been—was quite long enough to bring about disaster.
Already the pursuing policemen had come racing up over the rise behind, and were bawling out frantic instructions to the driver of the cart and the two fishermen who were with him. Thunderstruck as the latter seemed to be, they yet retained sufficient intelligence to grasp the fact that they were being called upon to assist the law. For a second only they hesitated; then with a simultaneous movement, they lumbered forward up the beach, and true to the voice of duty, rushed in upon their quarry.
The next minute was probably the busiest in Tony's life. Letting go of Jimmy, he sprang forward to meet the first of their assailants—a big black-bearded fellow, who had slightly out-distanced the others. The man dived for his body, but swinging up his left with a terrific jolt Tony caught him full in the face, and sent him sprawling over on the sand. Then, just in the nick of time, he turned to meet the driver of the cart. There was no chance of repeating his former tactics, for the sheer weight of the latter's rush had brought him into close quarters, and the next instant they were swaying up and down, clutched in each other's arms.
At any ordinary time they would have been a very well matched pair, but the desperation of the moment had filled Tony with a kind of wild madness that seemed almost to have doubled his strength. Wrenching his right arm free he drove his fist deep into his opponent's midriff with the force of a piston-rod. The man's legs shut up under him like a clasp-knife—down he went in a gurgling heap, dragging Tony with him in his fall.
The latter was up again almost immediately, but his first glance round showed him the hopelessness of the situation. Racing down the slope with all possible speed, the two policemen had already reached the scene of action. One of them was rushing towards him with a drawn sword, and yelling to him to surrender, while the other was dodging round the car in pursuit of Isabel.
At that moment, just when everything seemed to be lost, a violent "bang" from behind burst suddenly on Tony's ear. He spun round instinctively—and there, fifteen yards away, was the Heaven-sent figure of "Tiger" Bugg, leaping up the beach with the speed and fury of an avenging angel. A few paces in the rear stood Guy Oliver, hatless, perspiring, and with a smoking revolver levelled in his hand.
Even as Tony turned there came a second spurt of flame. He felt the bullet whistle past him, and almost simultaneously an agonized yelp of pain showed that it had found its mark. He swung round again instantly, just in time to see the onrushing policeman drop his sword, and stagger back a couple of paces with his left hand clasped to his shoulder.
Disregarding everything else Tony flung himself to the rescue of Isabel. At the sound of the second shot, the man who was chasing her had pulled up abruptly in his tracks, apparently debating whether, under the new circumstances, discretion was not the better part of valour. Before he could make up his mind Tony was on him. He flung up his arms to defend himself, but a smashing left in the throat toppled him over like a pole-axed bullock, the back of his head coming in violent contact with the radiator, and thus completing his discomfiture.