In this way the tandem riders were carried a good hundred yards or more beyond their quarry. Then Phipps realized his possibilities, slacked up with the brake, and let the thing go over sideways, dropping on to his right foot. With his left leg still over the saddle, and still holding the handles, he looked over his shoulder and began addressing uncomplimentary remarks to Dangle. “You only think of yourself,” said Phipps, with a florid face. “They have forgotten us,” said Jessie, turning her machine. “There was a road at the top of the hill—to Lyndhurst,” said Hoopdriver, following her example. “It’s no good. There’s the money. We must give it up. But let us go back to that hotel at Rufus Stone. I don’t see why we should be led captive.” So to the consternation of the tandem riders, Jessie and her companion mounted and rode quietly back up the hill again. As they dismounted at the hotel entrance, the tandem overtook them, and immediately afterwards the dogcart came into view in pursuit. Dangle jumped off. “Miss Milton, I believe,” said Dangle, panting and raising a damp cap from his wet and matted hair. “I _say_,” said Phipps, receding involuntarily. “Don’t go doing it again, Dangle. _Help_ a chap.” “One minute,” said Dangle, and ran after his colleague. Jessie leant her machine against the wall, and went into the hotel entrance. Hoopdriver remained in the hotel entrance, limp but defiant. XXXVIII. AT THE RUFUS STONE He folded his arms as Dangle and Phipps returned towards him. Phipps was abashed by his inability to cope with the tandem, which he was now wheeling, but Dangle was inclined to be quarrelsome. “Miss Milton?” he said briefly. Mr. Hoopdriver bowed over his folded arms. “Miss Milton within?” said Dangle. “_And_ not to be disturved,” said Mr. Hoopdriver. “You are a scoundrel, sir,” said Mr. Dangle. “Et your service,” said Mr. Hoopdriver. “She awaits ’er stepmother, sir.” Mr. Dangle hesitated. “She will be here immediately,” he said. “Here is her friend, Miss Mergle.” Mr. Hoopdriver unfolded his arms slowly, and, with an air of immense calm, thrust his hands into his breeches pockets. Then with one of those fatal hesitations of his, it occurred to him that this attitude was merely vulgarly defiant; he withdrew both, returned one and pulled at the insufficient moustache with the other. Miss Mergle caught him in confusion. “Is this the man?” she said to Dangle, and forthwith, “How _dare_ you, sir? How dare you face me? That poor girl!” “You will permit me to observe,” began Mr. Hoopdriver, with a splendid drawl, seeing himself, for the first time in all this business, as a romantic villain. “Ugh,” said Miss Mergle, unexpectedly striking him about the midriff with her extended palms, and sending him staggering backward into the hall of the hotel.