The car leapt forward; the going was easier now, long straight stretches of common land with scrub and occasional woods. Rex was getting every ounce out of the engine. The stars began to pale in the sky, and as the Duke glanced through the shattered rear window he saw the grey light that heralds the dawn. An hour and a half after crossing the Bug, they came to the outlying farms of Mogeliev; another few miles and they would be over the frontier into Rumania.
Rex was for pressing on, but De Richleau was against it.
“The wireless is certain to have been busy,” he said, “and the frontier strongly guarded. To attempt to rush a second post in broad daylight would be madness — we should be shot to pieces.”
At Simon’s suggestion they adhered to his original plan and took a by-road to the west at the entrance of the township. It was little better than a cart-track, but it proved to be the same road that he had seen with Richard on the map, and a mile and a half farther on they found the cross-roads which had been decided on as the rendezvous. A solitary farmstead standing a little way back from the road occupied one corner. A few yards from the gate leading into the yard, Rex pulled up.
“What’s the drill now?” he asked.
“Better wake Richard,” said Simon. “Now we haven’t got his ’plane to go over in we’ll need all the ideas we can get.”
De Richleau shook the sleeper. Richard muttered angrily at first and refused to waken, but the Duke was persistent. At last he opened his eyes and groaned.
“Oh, God! my head!”
“Wake up, Richard — wake up!” said De Richleau loudly.
With heavy eyes Richard looked about him. “What’s happened?” he asked stupidly.