with that even tone which tells thepractised motorist that his cylinders are working properly, and withoutonce pulling up, we soon found ourselves slowing down to enter the quietold county town of Dorchester.
At Charminster, where the two high-roads parted, we had news of the bluecar we were following. A man breaking stones at the roadside informedus that it had passed about half an hour in front of us.
"It was going at a terrible speed," he added, in broad Dorset dialect."They'll get summoned--you see."
This caused us to put on more pace, heedless of whether any pair ofconstables--or hedgehogs as motorists call them--were lurking near theroad. Gibbs put on all the speed he could get out of his engines, andwe literally flew through Stratton and Frampton. He was, it seemed,determined to earn the couple of sovereigns I had promised him as rewardif successful.
The afternoon went slowly by. The sky became overcast, and there was aslight shower, but we did not pull up, tearing ever onward throughChard, over the Devonshire border and round the big hill of Dumpdon toold-fashioned but unpicturesque Honiton.
We had now only seventeen miles or so before reaching Exeter. Slowly wedescended the main street which dropped very steeply to a bridge over asmall stream, and then out again upon the broad white undulating road,fringed almost continuously by trees and whitewashed and thatchedcottages--the main road that runs from London through Hounslow to thewest.
Suddenly we dipped beneath a railway bridge, and the road rising againour eager eyes saw about a mile in front of us a travelling cloud ofdust. As we looked the car before us went round a slight bend in theflat open road, and there showed a flash of bright blue.
"Look!" cried Gibbs excitedly, "that's the car! We must overtake them,"and setting his teeth again he put on all speed possible.
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, we seemed to be overtaking my fugitivelove who was, of course, all unconscious of being followed, when, justas we ran over the bridge which crosses the Clyst, there was a loudreport like a pistol shot, and Gibbs was compelled to instantly applythe brake, uttering a loud exclamation of disappointment and chagrin.
Our off rear tyre had burst!
My love would be in Exeter and beyond reach long before we could put ona new tube and tyre.
I stood watching the fast receding car, my heart sinking within me.Ella was before my very eyes, escaping me--never to return.
I knew that the intention was to evade me in future. And yet how madlyI loved her. No matter what she said or what she did, she was stillmine--mine!
CHAPTER NINETEEN.
THE BLUE MOTOR-CAR.
Gibbs was the first to speak. He examined the burst critically, glancedat the fast disappearing car, and, turning to me, asked:--
"Shall we still try, sir? If you'll help me we'll be on the road againin twenty minutes."
"Yes," I cried, "let's try," and throwing off my coat, I began inearnest to take out the spare tyre while he got out the jack and tools.
While I unscrewed the bolts, he jacked up the car, and in ten minutesthe burst tyre was off, and we were adjusting the new one. A new innertube I found under the front seat, and we soon adjusted it, Gibbspumping it up while I put away the tools and strapped on the brokentyre.
I glanced at the clock on the car, and saw that we had been justeighteen minutes, then up we got, and, without much preliminary, movedaway again tearing at breakneck speed through Ottery St Mary and adreary little place called Honiton Clyst, then over a bad road amongsmall and dingy houses from Heavitree into Exeter. At the Gordonmemorial-lamp we took the right-hand road, found the tram-line andpassed up Paris Street into High Street, and on to the cathedral, wherewe pulled up before the "Clarence," hoping to obtain some news of theblue "Mercedes."
It, however, had not been seen. At Pople's, at the "Globe" and the"Half Moon" we inquired, but without success. The car had not been seenin any of the main streets of the city, therefore we could only concludethat it had passed round the outskirts and taken either the Crediton orthe Teignmouth road. From south of the city a dozen different ways leadoff the Okehampton road, therefore it seemed certain that ourunfortunate accident had negatived all our attempts to overtake MrMurray and his party.
Again we were thwarted, until Gibbs suddenly recollected that in ParisStreet we had passed a cycle works where petrol was sold, and we turnedthe car and made eager inquiry there.
Yes. A big blue car had stopped there, and refilled its tank about anhour before. The chauffeur had inquired the road to Plymouth, and themanager had advised him to take the road by Bickington, Buckfastleighand Ivybridge. The distance to Plymouth, we were told, was forty-fourmiles, therefore thanking our informant we reversed the car and weresoon out again on the old coach-road through Alphington andShillingford, hoping that some similar mishap to that which had occurredto us might delay the party we were endeavouring to overtake.
Again we raced along against time, up over the Great Haldon hills wherewe had grand views across the open country, through old-fashionedvillages of the true Devon type, past a quaint old mill with highsloping roof, and narrowly escaping a collision with a farmer's cartjust as we were entering Bickington.
Twice we inquired of men we met on the road whether they had seen thecar, and each reply was in the affirmative. Therefore we kept an eagerlook-out far ahead to distinguish the receding cloud of dust which wouldbetray its presence.
At full speed we tore along, the motor humming its rhythmic music andthe dust rising in a dense column behind. I shrewdly suspect thatbefore starting Gibbs had smeared a little oil across part of the numberboth front and rear, in order that the dust should render it puzzling toany lurking constable.
"If we don't get fined for this, sir, we ought to," declared Gibbs, witha laugh, looking at me through his goggles, as we sped across awide-open stretch of moor with the head-wind blowing the white dust fullin our faces. Down a steep hill we ran until, rounding a sudden bend inthe road, an exclamation of joy escaped us both, as we saw the car thathad evaded us so long, stationary.
The chauffeur was in the act of putting in a new inner tube to one ofthe back tyres, while the passengers had descended and were walkingabout the road. A couple of farm labourers were looking on, their handsstuck idly in their pockets, and as we approached all turned to look.
My first impulse was to stop and greet Ella, but next instant itoccurred to me that as I wore goggles, and an overcoat that she hadnever seen, I was effectively disguised.
"Slow down, but don't stop," I said to Gibbs, and a few moments later wepassed the party, without, however, taking any notice of them.
The car was, as the man beside me had said, a splendid "Mercedes" of thelatest type, one of the best I had ever seen upon the road. Thechauffeur was a smart fellow in uniform, probably French, and the partywho were awaiting the repairs consisted of Ella--in a neatchampagne-coloured motor-coat, with flat hat and a veil of the samecolour with a plate of talc in front instead of glasses--a dark-hairedlady somewhat older, also in motor clothes, a youngish man with a roundboyish clean-shaven face, and lastly Mr Murray. The latter had soaltered that had I met him in the street I should certainly not haverecognised him. His beard was now white, his hair grey, and upon hisface was a hard careworn look, in place of the easy nonchalant air hewore in those well-remembered days when I had been a welcome guest atWichenford.
Ella was seated upon a stile chatting to her female companion, while herfather was standing on the road some distance away, in earnestconversation with the young man.
Owing to my disguising dark goggles, I was able to look straight intotheir faces without fear of recognition. This was fortunate, for atpresent I had no intention of revealing my identity.
Could that round-faced, fresh-complexioned man be the fellow who,according to my love's own admission, held her in his power?
The very suspicion maddened me, causing my blood to rise.
Murray appeared to be speaking to him in confidence, giving him certaininstructions to which
he was enlisting attentively, with brows knit, asthough what he heard was far from reassuring.
Who was the man?
His identity and his relation towards my well-beloved I determined toascertain.
"Let's go on slowly into the next place, whatever it is," I said.
"We're about five miles from Ashburton, sir," Gibbs replied.
"I want them to overtake us, and then we can follow them to theirdestination," I said.
"They're going to Plymouth. Wouldn't it be better for us to go on therean' wait for 'em?" suggested the man. "It's now five o'clock, andthey'll probably put up there for the night."
"No. They are going farther than Plymouth," I said. "It's a thousandpities you can't remember where the chauffeur said they were going."
"Perhaps the ladies 'ull want tea. If so,
The Mysterious Mr. Miller Page 21