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 pass 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 ship, 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 hoard. 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. We were on the main road now, and the surface was wide, if rough. What little traffic there was, left plenty of room. I took the ashes of my caution and flung them to the winds. Piers told me afterwards that for the first twenty miles never once did the speedometer's needle fall below seventy-two. He may be right. I knew that the streets were coming, and the station had to be found. It was a question, in fact, of stealing time. That which we had already was not enough. Unless we could pick some out of the pocket of Providence, the game was up.