retorted Sam between his teeth. âI am not going to be caught.â
The two young men, running hard, were gaining on them and were now only five yards behind. A small body of police and detectives could be seen in pursuit a short distance behind that.
Rezaire, swearing at its slowness, threw the car into second gear. But the change necessitated a slight slowing down, and, before they could pick up their speed once more, one of their pursuers got his hands on the hood and sprang onto the footboard on the driverâs side. The car quickly accelerated just before the other could catch up.
Instantly their assailant, cursing them vigorously, tried to switch off the engine, but Rezaire fought him off by holding his hand over the switch. All the while he kept his foot firmly pressed upon the accelerator, and the car was gaining speed the whole way. Losing his head, the other then began to wrest his hands from the steering wheel, while Sam leaned across from the other side and tried to push him off. They could hear his companions encouraging him with shouts from a short way behind.
The car swerved madly from side to side as the two pairs of hands struggled for the wheel. At last Sam succeeded in dealing their opponent a blow on the head with the butt of his revolver, which he more skillfully followed up by another on the fingers that grasped the steering wheel. The young man reeled under the shock and Sam, who was now standing up in the seat, pushed him in the chest as hard as he could.
He gave a cry and fell, rolling along the muddy road for a little distance. They heard his companion shouting âStop thief!â and behind him the shrill police whistles. The wheel, suddenly freed from the strain to which it had been subjected, swung over to one side. Rezaire made a desperate clutch at it and with a swerve got the car right, Sam nearly falling out at the suddenness of the movement. But before he could get the car properly under control again, the turning into the brilliantly lighted Strand with its flow of traffic, and its busy evening crowds, was upon them.
Rezaire slowed down as much as he was able in the short space, for he had been accelerating all the way up to throw his pursuers off. Then he wrenched the wheel round to the left. A knot of people, who had been attracted by the police whistles and were standing at the corners, scattered like chaff. The car went round, lifting at the abruptness of the turn, and sped in a half curve across the road. Rezaire could not get her round completely for fear of a complete overturn, and so took the curb of a refuge in the middle of the street. With a sickening jolt to the springs they ran up onto it, grazing a lamp-post. A man who was standing on the refuge with his back to them was struck by the off fender of the car and knocked into the road. A taxi just behind, going the same way, pulled up with a whirr and a screech. A bus driver swerved out of his way, cursing him vigorously and nearly ran down a cyclist. Everything in an instant was thrown into confusion.
As Rezaire got the car under control once more, picking it out by a hairâs-breadth from a dozen accidents, he saw a policeman running at him from the side, hand uplifted, angrily shouting something. He accelerated, passing round on the wrong side of a bus and the policeman was cut off from view. The police whistle again shrilled out in his ears above the roar of traffic, as their original pursuers emerged into the Strand. People were standing on the pavements staring about them and wondering what was the matter. A man yelled a sentence at him as he passed. Rezaire accelerated further, thankful that it was too early for the theater crowds, and that the road was comparatively clear.
Sam, who had pocketed his revolver again, wiped the blood from his face and, looking over the back, began to tell Rezaire what was happening.
âThe police can still see us,â he muttered. âSome of âem are running
The two young men, running hard, were gaining on them and were now only five yards behind. A small body of police and detectives could be seen in pursuit a short distance behind that.
Rezaire, swearing at its slowness, threw the car into second gear. But the change necessitated a slight slowing down, and, before they could pick up their speed once more, one of their pursuers got his hands on the hood and sprang onto the footboard on the driverâs side. The car quickly accelerated just before the other could catch up.
Instantly their assailant, cursing them vigorously, tried to switch off the engine, but Rezaire fought him off by holding his hand over the switch. All the while he kept his foot firmly pressed upon the accelerator, and the car was gaining speed the whole way. Losing his head, the other then began to wrest his hands from the steering wheel, while Sam leaned across from the other side and tried to push him off. They could hear his companions encouraging him with shouts from a short way behind.
The car swerved madly from side to side as the two pairs of hands struggled for the wheel. At last Sam succeeded in dealing their opponent a blow on the head with the butt of his revolver, which he more skillfully followed up by another on the fingers that grasped the steering wheel. The young man reeled under the shock and Sam, who was now standing up in the seat, pushed him in the chest as hard as he could.
He gave a cry and fell, rolling along the muddy road for a little distance. They heard his companion shouting âStop thief!â and behind him the shrill police whistles. The wheel, suddenly freed from the strain to which it had been subjected, swung over to one side. Rezaire made a desperate clutch at it and with a swerve got the car right, Sam nearly falling out at the suddenness of the movement. But before he could get the car properly under control again, the turning into the brilliantly lighted Strand with its flow of traffic, and its busy evening crowds, was upon them.
Rezaire slowed down as much as he was able in the short space, for he had been accelerating all the way up to throw his pursuers off. Then he wrenched the wheel round to the left. A knot of people, who had been attracted by the police whistles and were standing at the corners, scattered like chaff. The car went round, lifting at the abruptness of the turn, and sped in a half curve across the road. Rezaire could not get her round completely for fear of a complete overturn, and so took the curb of a refuge in the middle of the street. With a sickening jolt to the springs they ran up onto it, grazing a lamp-post. A man who was standing on the refuge with his back to them was struck by the off fender of the car and knocked into the road. A taxi just behind, going the same way, pulled up with a whirr and a screech. A bus driver swerved out of his way, cursing him vigorously and nearly ran down a cyclist. Everything in an instant was thrown into confusion.
As Rezaire got the car under control once more, picking it out by a hairâs-breadth from a dozen accidents, he saw a policeman running at him from the side, hand uplifted, angrily shouting something. He accelerated, passing round on the wrong side of a bus and the policeman was cut off from view. The police whistle again shrilled out in his ears above the roar of traffic, as their original pursuers emerged into the Strand. People were standing on the pavements staring about them and wondering what was the matter. A man yelled a sentence at him as he passed. Rezaire accelerated further, thankful that it was too early for the theater crowds, and that the road was comparatively clear.
Sam, who had pocketed his revolver again, wiped the blood from his face and, looking over the back, began to tell Rezaire what was happening.
âThe police can still see us,â he muttered. âSome of âem are running
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