He tried to free himself but the two arms gripped him like a sheath. Ralph laughed and said: “You’ve got to choose, my dear sir, the ravine or getting smashed up by the car. Look! There it comes bucketting along to meet you. You must stop, my friend. If you don’t——” In truth the heavy car came round a corner sixty yards away. At the pace at which they were moving the stop must be instantaneous. The driver grasped this and put on the brakes, while Ralph bent down over the wheel and brought the auto to a standstill on the two rails of the car line. The two vehicles came to a stop nose to nose. The driver was still raging; he cried: “Cristi de Cristi! Who the hell is this blighter? Ah, you shall pay for this!” “Make out your bill. Have you got a fountain pen? No? Then, if you don’t mean to spend the night in front of the car let’s get out of the way.” He held out his hand to the girl, who refused his help and sprang down and stood waiting by the side of the road. The passengers on the car began to grow impatient. The driver and conductor shouted. Ralph and the ruffian started to get the auto out of the way; and as soon as it was clear the car went on. Ralph stepped away from the car and said to the driver in imperious accents: “You’ve seen how I operate, comrade. Well, if you venture to molest the young lady any more, I’ll hand you over to the police. It was you who planned the coup on the express and strangled the English girl.” The driver turned, paling. In his hairy face, its skin already riddled with wrinkles, the lips were twitching. He stammered: “It’s a lie! I never t-t-t-touched her!” “It was you all right. I’ve got the proofs,” snarled Ralph. “If you’re caught, it’s the scaffold. So clear out. You can leave me your car. I’ll take it back to Nice with the girl. Come, get!” He cleared him out of the way with a savage thrust of his shoulder, sprang into the car and picked up the wrapped-up violin case. Then he swore and cried: “She’s bolted!” In truth the girl with the green eyes was no longer by the roadside. The street car was disappearing round the corner. Taking advantage of their being busy clearing the auto out of the way, she must have jumped on to it. Ralph’s fury turned on the driver. “Who are you? Eh? You know that girl? What’s her name? And what’s your name?” The driver no less furious sprang at him and tried to snatch the violin-case from his hands. There was a fierce struggle and in the middle of it a second street car came by. Ralph staggered his opponent with a left hook to the temple, sprang away from him and sprang on to the car. The ruffian recovered as it went round the corner and started to stagger after it. It left him behind. Ralph returned to his hotel in the worst of tempers. Fortunately he had by way of compensation the deeds of the Countess Faradoni. He unwrapped the newspaper. Although it had lost its neck and bridge and strings, the violin was much heavier than it should have been.