United States or France ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
They had rounded a curve in the road at their usual breakneck speed, and Mollie stopped the car with a jolt that very nearly sent its occupants flying into the roadway. Before them, not twenty yards away, a little figure in black lay huddled in the road while the motorcyclist who had caused the accident, sped by the girls, exhaust open and head lowered.
As a matter of fact, the sergeant was hurrying very much indeed, for he was almost as eager as the girls to see the old lady and collect the evidence in the case against the motorcyclist. He was panting as he sprang up the steps toward them and his eyes were bright with anticipation. "I got back as soon as I could," he cried. "Now, if you can take me "
When we got into action they would drop behind, and we used them to send messages back to camp. The best motorcyclist we had was a Swiss named Milson. He was of part English descent, and came at once from Switzerland at the outbreak of the war to enlist. When he joined he spoke only broken English but was an exceedingly intelligent man and had been attending a technical college.
Using the same language, Winter told him, substituting "the Eurasian" and "the motorcyclist" for names, and adding that he was writing Jacques Faure, the Paris detective, with reference to the hotel and the label, the figures on the latter being of the long, thin, French variety. "Are you coming here tonight?" went on Furneaux. "Do you want me?"
"Go on, Betty, never mind this vulgar rabble with apologies to you, sweet sister," as Grace shot an indignant glance at him. "You were saying that if I found this motorcyclist you'd give me an extra piece of cake, or words to that effect. Am I right?" "Perfectly," laughed Betty, then added, seriously: "But, really, I think something ought to be done." "So do I," Amy backed her up stoutly.
To keep from running into the men, which would have meant a nasty spill, the motorcyclist was forced to put on his brake. The men would have gathered to one side of the road to let him pass, but Betty's shrill cry arrested them. "Don't let him pass," she implored them desperately. "It's our criminal, Sergeant Mullins! Don't you see? The gambler!"
Poynter assured him and politely begged instant and accurate knowledge of a number of things, of a knife and a bullet, of Themar's spying, of a cuff, of the man by the fire who read Herodotus, of a motorcyclist seeking for days to overtake a nomad. "I I dare not tell," faltered Themar, moistening his lips. "I I am bound by an oath " "To spy and steal and murder!"
Then all in one day, in an hour, really, we capture the motorcyclist and find her son for her. It's no wonder I can't seem to make myself believe I haven't dreamed it all," she finished, with such a look of utter happiness on her face that Mollie slipped an arm about her and hugged her fondly. "You know, Betty," she said solemnly, "I'm almost beginning to have a superstitious belief in you."
Miss Beale hardly counted. The servants in Fortescue Square shared with Bates and his wife a sort of territorial interest in the fight. When Fortune picked an occasional warrior for the fray she chose a man from Chicago, a motorcyclist from Eastbourne, a policeman in Charing Cross road. How portentous had been that hand raised to stem the traffic at a congested corner on the Monday night!
"But what wouldst thee, sweet damsel?" asked Will patiently. "We can hardly go out on the broad highway and hold up every motorcyclist that comes along " "Well, I know what you could do," said Grace, with unusual animation. "You could take one of us along to point out the suspicious characters." "Yes, we got a fine view of him," added Amy eagerly. "He had small eyes close together "
Word Of The Day