Jonah and Co Part 73

Twenty-five minutes past eight.

An hour and fifty minutes--and a hundred miles to go.

With a frightful shock I realised that, _even with the daylight to help me, I had used a third of my time_.

I began to wish frantically that I had gone by Roquefort. I felt a wild inclination to stop and retrace my steps. Pavement? Pavement be burned. I must have been mad to throw away fifteen miles--fifteen golden miles....

Adele's face, pale, frightened, accusing, stared at me through the wind-screen. Over her shoulder, Jill, white and shrinking, pointed a shaking finger.

With a groan, I jammed my foot on the accelerator....

With a roar, the car sprang forward like a spurred horse.

Heaven knows the speed at which St. Justin was pa.s.sed. I was beyond caring. We missed a figure by inches and a cart by a foot. Then the cottages faded, and the long snarl of the engine sank to the stormy mutter she kept for the open road.

We were in the forest now, and I let her go.

Out of the memories of that April evening our progress through the forest stands like a chapter of a dream.

Below us, the tapering road, paler than ever--on either side an endless army of fir trees, towering shoulder to shoulder, so dark, so vast, and standing still as Death--above us, a lane of violet, all p.r.i.c.ked with burning stars, we supped the rare old ale brewed by Hans Andersen himself.

Within this magic zone the throb of the engine, the hiss of the carburettor, the swift brush of the tires upon the road--three rousing tones, yielding a thunderous chord, were curiously staccato. The velvet veil of silence we rent in twain; but as we tore it, the folds fell back to hang like mighty curtains about our path, stifling all echo, striking reverberation dumb. The strong, sweet smell of the woods enhanced the mystery. The cool, clean air thrashed us with perfume....

The lights of the car were powerful and focussed perfectly. The steady, bright splash upon the road, one hundred yards ahead, robbed the night of its sting.

Rabbits rocketed across our bows; a bat spilled its brains upon our wind-screen; a hare led us for an instant, only to flash to safety under our very wheels. As for the moths, the screen was strewn with the dead. Three times Piers had to rise and wipe it clear.

Of men and beasts, mercifully, we saw no sign.

If Houeilles knew of our pa.s.sage, her ears told her. Seemingly the hamlet slept. I doubt if we took four seconds to thread its one straight street. Next day, I suppose, men swore the devil was loose.

They may be forgiven. Looking back from a hazy distance, I think he was at my arm.

As we ran into Casteljaloux, a clock was striking....

Nine o'clock.

We had covered the thirty-five miles in thirty-five minutes dead.

"To the left, you know," said Piers.

"_Left?_" I cried, setting a foot on the brake. "Straight on, surely.

We turn to the left at Marmande."

"No, no, _no_. We don't touch Marmande. We turn to the left here." I swung round obediently. "This is the Langon road. It's quite all right, and it saves us about ten miles."

Ten miles.

I could have screamed for joy.

Only fifty-five miles to go--and an hour and a quarter left.

The hope which had never died lifted up its head....

It was when we were nearing Auros that we sighted the van.

This was a hooded horror--a great, two-ton affair, a creature, I imagine, of Bordeaux, blinding home like a mad thing, instead of blundering.

Ah, I see a hundred fingers pointing to the beam in my eye. Bear with me, gentlemen. I am not so sightless as all that.

I could steer my car with two fingers upon the roughest road. I could bring her up, all standing, in twice her length. My lights, as you know, made darkness a thing of nought.... I cannot answer for its headlights, nor for its brake-control, but the backlash in the steering of that two-ton van was terrible to behold.

Hurling itself along at thirty odd miles an hour, the vehicle rocked and swung all over the narrow surface--now lurching to the right, now plunging to the left, but, in the main, holding a wobbling course upon the crown of the road--to my distraction.

Here was trouble enough, but--what was worse--upon my sounding the horn, the driver refused to give way. He knew of my presence, of course. He heard me, he saw my headlights, and--he sought to increase his pace....

I sounded the horn till it failed: I yelled till my throat was sore: Piers raged and howled: behind, I heard Berry bellowing like a fiend.... I cursed and chafed till the sweat of baffled fury ran into my eyes....

For over five hideous miles I followed that bucketing van.

I tried to pa.s.s it once, but the brute who was driving swerved to the left--I believe on purpose--and only our four-wheel brakes averted a headline smash.

At that moment we might not have been on earth.

My lady stopped as a bird stops in its flight. With the sudden heave of a s.h.i.+p, she seemed to hang in the air. Wild as I was, I could not but marvel at her grace....

Out of the check came wisdom.

It was safe, then, to keep very close.

I crept to the blackguard's heels, till our headlights made two rings upon his vile body.

With one foot on the step, Piers hung out of the car, watching the road beyond.

Suddenly the van tilted to the right....

I knew a swerve must follow, if the driver would keep his balance.

As it came, I pulled out and crammed by, with my heart in my mouth....

A glance at the clock made me feel sick to death.

Fifteen priceless minutes that van had stolen out of my hard-earned h.o.a.rd. I had risked our lives a score of times to win each one of them. And now an ill-natured churl had flung them into the draught....

I set my teeth and put the car at a hill at eighty-five....

We flashed through Langon at twenty minutes to ten.

Thirty-five minutes left--and thirty miles to go.