But what could he do? Rapidly he turned over in his mind the various courses open to him. Should he try to stun Arima with a blow, and then reach forward and take the steering-wheel before the car could swerve into the ditch? The blow might not prove effective. In that case, the chances were that Arima would involuntarily swing the car to one side. Then there would be a smash--with death or serious injury threatening both Arima and himself. Should he try to cut a tire? The feat was almost impossible. In attempting it, he would run great risk of premature discovery, and even if he succeeded in the attempt, the situation would be little changed. The necessity of stopping the car to make repairs might not put Arima in his hands. The plan he at last decided upon was to throw his left arm around Arima's neck and draw him straight back, trusting that he might be able to get over the seat and set the brakes without losing his grip. The throat of the jiu-jitsu adept is tough, made so by patient development of neck muscles, but Orme had a strong arm, and he believed, moreover, that Arima would not have time to protect himself by stiffening his muscles before the grip was secured. The car was skimming along over the turnpike like some flying bird of night. Orme glanced back over the way they had come. A soft electric glow in the sky told where Evanston lay, several miles to the east. Far to the south a greater glow showed the position of Chicago. Pulling himself erect, Orme leaned forward. It seemed as though Arima must hear him breathe. Slowly he advanced his arm. Then, darting swiftly, he threw it around Arima's neck and drew backwards with a jerk. The Japanese was taken completely unawares. Uttering a strangled cry, he let go of the steering-wheel and clutched at the choking arm that held him; he could not break the grip. Meanwhile Orme reached for the steering-wheel with his free arm. But Arima, kicking frantically, struck the wheel with his foot, just as Orme was about to seize it. The car turned sharply to one side. Into the ditch it plunged. As the fore wheels dropped into the depression, the body of the car rose in the air. Orme, still clinging to Arima, shot forward. He was conscious, in that fraction of a second, that he must release his hold, or Arima's neck would be broken; so he unbent his arm. The earth arose and something struck him heavily. He saw a firmament of brilliant stars. Then all was black. CHAPTER XVII A CHANCE OF THE GAME The first impression that came to Orme with returning consciousness was one of impending disaster. His mind was renewing its last thought before it had ceased to work. Then he realized that the disaster had already occurred, and he moved his arms and legs, to see if they had been injured. They gave him no pain, and he raised himself to a sitting position.