GONE AWAY
"DON'T stir an inch until I give the signal," whispered Forrest in my
ear, as soon as he saw I was fully awake. He was perfectly calm, and he
closed the door in order to conceal us from the sight of any one
entering the workshop.
The car pulled up outside. We heard the grate of the key in the lock,
and the door creak on its hinges, as it swung open. There was a second
grating noise, and I judged that the door of the inner yard had been
opened by whoever had entered. There followed a few more pants from the
motor, as it passed through the coach-house into the yard, and then
everything was silent. The outer door shutting with a snap apprized us
that the crucial moment was at hand, and my heart began to thump as I
heard footsteps approaching. Forrest pointed to a vacant hook over my
head, and I recognized why he had selected the harness-room for our
hiding-place. The footsteps came slowly nearer, then stopped, and a long
low laugh came from the lips of the unseen man. I thought we must have
been discovered in our hiding-place and glanced at Forrest for
instructions. He never moved a muscle. He stood poised like a greyhound
about to be slipped from the leash.
The footsteps approached again. The door knob rattled as a hand was laid
upon it. The door flew open. Forrest darted forward.
I caught one glimpse of Mannering's face, for it was indeed he, and I
saw it become suddenly livid. It was not the pallor of fear. His eyes
flashed. He had doffed his coat and was holding it in one hand, and
quick as was Forrest's spring, he was equally swift to meet it. His
other hand passed swift as lightning from the door handle, and catching
the edge of the coat, spread the garment in front of him. Forrest,
missing his grip, plunged heavily into the wide folds of the garment.
Mannering's arms closed as a vice. The door swinging back had
momentarily blocked my passage. I thrust it open, and had taken one step
forward to Forrest's assistance, when Mannering with a herculean effort,
swung the detective from his feet, and hurled him full at me. It was a
magnificent effort, and I went down with a crash amongst the remains of
the lunch with Forrest on the top of me. The whole incident had not
lasted twenty seconds, and before either of us could regain our feet,
the door was slammed and locked.
Forrest was the first to regain his feet, and he rushed at the door
furiously. We were trapped. The door was a strong one of oak, and I
remembered that it fastened by a couple of bolts on the other side. The
detective worried the door like a bear at the bars of his cage, but he
could not move it. He gnashed his teeth, and he was white with rage.
From the other side we could hear the sound of heavy objects being
moved, and we guessed that our enemy was piling the most massive
articles his workshop contained against the door to make it more secure.
"D----n you, Sutgrove!" shouted the detective. "Don't stop to think, or
we shall lose our man after all. Come, both together."
I saw his intention, and I could understand and forgive his curse in the
excitement of the moment. Together we hurled ourselves against the door.
It did not move an inch, and a long low chuckle greeted the attempt from
the other side. We tried madly again and again, but the barrier was
immovable.
Then I looked round for some tool which would enable me to break down
the door itself. There were only the chairs available, and so I tore off
the leg of one of them, and, bidding Forrest stand back, I swung the
piece of wood round my head, and struck as hard as I could against one
of the lower panels of the door. The improvised club flew into half a
dozen fragments, but the panel had cracked. Forrest had provided himself
meanwhile with a similar club, and directed his blows so effectively
that the panel was driven out. I threw myself at the gap, trusting to be
able to force my way through.
What I saw filled me with rage. The wheels of the new car were moving,
and right before my eyes the car disappeared into the outer
coach-house. I made an unavailing attempt to struggle through the
aperture, but the attempt was hopeless. It was too narrow to admit even
my shoulders. Withdrawing, I told Forrest what I had seen.
"I had entirely forgotten Laver," he remarked, and putting his whistle
to his mouth, he blew it shrill and clear.
Then together we renewed our attack upon the door. The sound of a shout
from the outside followed by a pistol shot made us work like madmen, and
within a minute, another panel gave, and we managed to get at the bolts
and draw them. The articles piled against the door toppled in all
directions, as we finally forced our way out.
We were too late. The outer door was wide open, and just on the
threshold, was Forrest's unfortunate subordinate lying on the ground,
with blood trickling down his arm. He struggled into a sitting position
as we came out, and pointed up the road in the direction of St. Albans.
"Gone away, sir," he said.
"Hurt?" asked Forrest, pausing as he did so.
"Not much; smashed shoulder, I fancy," remarked the sufferer
philosophically.
"I'll send assistance," said my companion as he rushed after me into the
road, where I stood horror stricken at what met my gaze.
Fifty yards distant, opposite the entrance gate of Colonel Maitland's
house, the new car was standing still. It was empty. The gate was open,
and even as I watched, I saw Mannering come out of the gate, bearing in
his arms the helpless figure of a girl. There was no need to guess who
the victim might be. Even before I saw him appear, I knew intuitively
why he had stopped. Had he not told Evie that on the third day he would
return, bidding her be ready for him?
I rushed forward towards the car, but before I had covered half the
distance which separated me from it, he was aboard with his burden and I
knew pursuit on foot to be hopeless.
Yet, even as I saw him move away, there flashed across my brain one
means by which I might possibly get on terms with my enemy. There was
just one chance, and one chance only, of rescuing my darling from the
Pirate, and that chance depended entirely upon the question as to
whether the car upon which Mannering had returned was fitted with the
same sort of motor as that on which he had departed.
With the haste of a madman I returned to the coach-house I had just
quitted. My hopes fell to zero. There was an unmistakable scent of
petrol about the car. They rose again, however, upon a closer
examination, for I saw at once that the motor was a turbine, though
petrol was utilized in some way as a means of securing the necessary
heat to secure the expansion of the gas for the starting of the engine,
though I could see that once started, the expanded hydrogen was, as in
the new car, ingeniously utilized to produce the necessary heat. I was
glad then that I had spent as much time as I had upon examining the car
upon which the Pirate had escaped, for I was enabled to see that, if
only a supply of the liquid hydrogen were obtainable, I should be able
to put my wild plan into execution. As it was, the tank was nearly
empty, so putting my shoulder to the car, I shoved it into the workshop
where, unless Mannering had let it run to waste, I knew I should find a
supply of the hydrogen. Thank Heaven, Mannering had forgot to empty the
receiver, and filling the tank and tightly screwing down the nuts of the
covering, I wheeled the car into the open road. There I saw Forrest
leaning against the wall of the coach-house, a figure of inexpressible
dejection.
"Come and lend a hand!" I shouted.
The light that flashed into his face, as he realized what I would be at,
was extraordinary. He sprang forward at once to my assistance. Now, in
my attempts to get at the machinery of the car, I had discovered the
plates with which Mannering had been wont to disguise its shape, and it
occurred to me that they performed the further purpose of diminishing
the wind resistance, so that if I wanted to get the full speed out of
the car it would be necessary to fix them in their places. I immediately
set to work to join up the various sections, leaving Forrest to bolt
them together. We worked like niggers at the job, and it was nearly
completed when a curious sound came down the breeze. I looked up, and to
my surprise I saw the Pirate once more approaching.
"Look!" I shouted to Forrest in my excitement, though there was no need
to warn him.
Nearer the Pirate came; still nearer. Every moment I expected to see him
pull up and surrender. But it was a mad hope. He had not the slightest
intention of so obliging us. As he approached, he suddenly increased his
pace and flashed past us at full sixty miles an hour.
Forrest fingered a revolver, but he dared not shoot for fear the bullet
should find the slender form of Evie, who we saw was huddled close to
his side. Mannering laughed as he passed us and waved his hand in
derision.
"There are a couple of masks in the coach-house," I said quietly to the
detective.
He darted into the doorway and returned a moment later with them,
thrusting at the same time a bottle into his pocket. It took us no time
to climb into the car and as, during his momentary absence, I had
succeeded in starting the engine, we were in a position to move at once.
For a hundred yards we travelled at the speed at which we were
accustomed to see Mannering while using the car in the sight of men and
in the light of day. Then with a word of warning to my companion, I
pulled at the change-speed lever. The effect was marvellous. The car
seemed to leap forward and the hedges suddenly transformed themselves
into long green streaks.
A cloud of dust on the road ahead gave the direction Mannering had
taken, so I jammed down the lever to its limit and commenced the
pursuit. At any other time the idea of chasing the Pirate on one of his
own cars would have delighted me beyond measure, but my thoughts were
too much occupied as to the fate which might await Evie if we failed to
overtake her abductor to allow room for anything else.
Exactly what speed we made I cannot tell, it must have been nearer
eighty than sixty miles an hour, but the smoothness of the motion was
wonderful, and I felt not the slightest tremor.
Mannering had disappeared on the Watford road, and in a few minutes we
swept through the north end of the town and, directed by a boy at the
cross roads, made for Rickmansworth. Forrest took charge of the horn,
and kept it braying continuously. We slackened speed through
Rickmansworth, for the streets were full of vehicles, and there we
learned that the white car was five minutes ahead. Once clear of the
streets I let the car go again, and we tore away towards Uxbridge. On
reaching the main Oxford road once more a dust cloud in the distance
served as a guide, and informed us that Mannering had crossed the
highway, and gone away in the direction of Slough. The going was rough
for a while, but I did not slacken pace, though the road was narrow, and
to have met a cart would have meant certain destruction. The road
broadened after a time, and I fancied we were gaining, for the dust
cloud seemed nearer. We skirted Slough to the east, the guiding cloud
bearing towards Dachet. Darting through that little riverside town at a
pace which set the police whistles blowing behind us, we came to the
bridge across the Thames, and here we were informed that our quarry was
barely a minute ahead, and running in the direction of Egham. A mile
further on, at a straight piece of road, we first sighted the fugitives,
and a cry of triumph escaped my lips. It was a little premature,
however. Once again the silver car turned into a bye-road so winding
that I was compelled, much against my will, to slacken speed. Then once
more we came out upon a main road, to find our quarry not more than a
hundred yards away as we swept out into the broad highway.
And here, looking back, Mannering for the first time learned that we
were on his track. At that moment, too, commenced a race which, I
venture to think, will not soon be equalled in the history of the motor
world. At all events, I trust it will never be my lot to take part in
any similar trial of speed, at least, with such issues depending upon
the result. Upon emerging from the bye-road we were a mile from Egham,
and knowing the road, I asked Forrest to glance at his watch. The way
was clear before us, and three minutes and a quarter later, we flashed
through the railway arch at Sunningdale railway-station, four miles from
the point where the timing commenced. But fast as we had travelled,
Mannering travelled faster. When we reached Bagshot we learned he was
half a minute ahead.
We flew through the lovely pine country on the wings of the wind,
through Hook, and so into Basingstoke. By this time we were covered from
head to foot with white dust, looking more like working masons than
anything else; but wherever we went, I knew Forrest had the power to
make the way easy. If he had been anybody else but a detective from
Scotland Yard, we should never have got through Basingstoke, for there
the police, warned in some manner of our approach, had drawn a huge
waggon across the road, thus completely barring our progress. It was
soon drawn aside when Forrest produced his badge, and once more we flew
westwards. So through Whitchurch and Andover.
How we succeeded in escaping accidents I cannot explain. Providence
seemed to watch over both pursuers and pursued. We were always on the
verge of a collision with somebody or something. Cottages, carts,
pedestrians, cyclists, seemed to be flying by in a never-ending
procession. Yet we touched nothing.
Once past Andover the road became clearer, for instead of turning
towards Salisbury, as I expected, the Pirate chose the road through
Amesbury and Stonehenge. We swept over Salisbury Plain at a magnificent
pace, but we did not catch sight of the fugitives, though now and again
a glimpse of a distant dust cloud raised my hopes momentarily. At
Wincanton we learned we were three minutes behind, and setting my teeth,
I determined I would not slacken speed again until we overtook the
fugitives or reached Exeter. The road was admirable hereabouts, and we
ran so steadily that, but for the hedges flying past, we might have been
sitting in armchairs. After Ilminster the road became steeper, though
it was yet too early in the year to be very rough.
But how is it possible to describe a journey at the pace we were making?
Our progress became dream-like to me. It was almost monotonous. One
could observe so little, just an incident here and there to mark the
stages in the journey. Thus I remember Honiton by the frightened scream
of a cur which was swept off its feet by the rush of the air as we
passed close at his tail. Then nothing of note until we reached Exeter.
At the cathedral city we were told the white car was only a minute in
advance. I began to wonder where the chase was going to end, for
Mannering was still going westward without pause. Still we followed. Out
on to the Launceston road; onward, ever onward until the bare hills of
Dartmoor frowned upon us, and we had to slacken slightly for the long
upward grind. Fortunately the hills were free from mist, and on reaching
the summit of Whiddon Down we caught once more a glimpse of the white
car before it disappeared in the distance. I was getting reckless, and I
took the descent at a pace which blanched even Forrest's cheek. Then
through a streak of white houses, which I fancied must be Okehampton.
There was no need to inquire the way. At the pace both cars were
travelling there was only one road which would serve either Mannering or
myself. In fifteen minutes Launceston came into view. Then up again
until from the top of Bodmin moor we caught fleeting glimpses of the sea
on either side of us. On still without pause, through Redruth and
Camborne and Hayle. Finally a sight of them at last, as we opened up St.
Michael's Bay as we came to Marazion. And here I thought the chase had
come to an end. I was mistaken.