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Page 91
Having commandeered the Rolls Royce from the door of the Cavalry
Club, he had immediately, by a mental process which many perils
had perfected, dismissed the question of rightful ownership from
his mind. The fact that he might be intercepted by police scouts
he refused to entertain. The limousine driven by the Hindu
chauffeur was still in sight, and until Mr. Nicol Brinn had seen
it garaged, nothing else mattered, nothing else counted, and
nothing else must be permitted to interfere.
Jamming his hat tightly upon his head, he settled down at the
wheel, drawing up rather closer to the limousine as the chase lay
through crowded thoroughfares and keeping his quarry comfortably
in sight across Westminster Bridge and through the outskirts of
London.
He had carefully timed the drive to the unknown abode of
Fire-Tongue, and unless it had been prolonged, the more
completely to deceive him, he had determined that the house lay
not more than twenty miles from Piccadilly.
When Mitcham was passed, and the limousine headed straight on
into Surrey, he decided that there had been no doubling, but that
the house to which he had been taken lay in one of these
unsuspected country backwaters, which, while they are literally
within sight of the lights of London, have nevertheless a
remoteness as complete as secrecy could desire.
It was the deserted country roads which he feared, for if the man
ahead of him should suspect pursuit, a difficult problem might
arise.
By happy chance Nicol Brinn, an enthusiastic motorist, knew the
map of Surrey as few Englishmen knew it. Indeed, there was no
beauty spot within a forty-mile radius of London to which he
could not have driven by the best and shortest route, at a
moment's notice. This knowledge aided him now.
For presently at a fork in the road he saw that the driver of the
limousine had swung to the left, taking the low road, that to the
right offering a steep gradient. The high road was the direct
road to Lower Claybury, the low road a detour to the same.
Nicol Brinn mentally reviewed the intervening countryside, and
taking a gambler's chance, took the Rolls Royce up the hill. He
knew exactly what he was about, and he knew that the powerful
engine would eat up the slope with ease.
Its behaviour exceeded his expectations, and he found himself
mounting the acclivity at racing speed. At its highest point, the
road, skirting a hilltop, offered an extensive view of the valley
below. Here Nicol Brinn pulled up and, descending, watched and
listened.
In the stillness he could plainly hear the other automobile
humming steadily along the lowland road below. He concentrated
his mind upon the latter part of that strange journey, striving
to recall any details which had marked it immediately preceding
the time when he had detected the rustling of leaves and knew
that they had entered a carriage drive.
Yes, there had been a short but steep hill; and immediately
before this the car had passed over a deeply rutted road, or--he
had a sudden inspiration--over a level crossing.
He knew of just such a hilly road immediately behind Lower
Claybury station. Indeed, it was that by which he should be
compelled to descend if he continued to pursue his present route
to the town. He could think of no large, detached house, the
Manor Park excepted, which corresponded to the one which he
sought. But that in taking the high road he had acted even more
wisely than he knew, he was now firmly convinced.
He determined to proceed as far as the park gates as speedily as
possible. Therefore, returning to the wheel, he sent the car
along the now level road at top speed, so that the railings of
the Manor Park, when presently he found himself skirting the
grounds, had the semblance of a continuous iron fence wherever
the moonlight touched them.
He passed the head of the road dipping down to Lower Claybury,
but forty yards beyond pulled up and descended. Again he stood
listening, and:
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