The Lightning Conductor: The Strange Adventures of a Motor-Car

We swept away from the hotel with a curve, which isn't a line of beauty for a motor-car, and as we left the town Jimmy's conception of his part as driver became so eccentric that Miss Randolph looked worried-that is, her pretty shoulders stiffened themselves; I couldn't often see her face-and Aunt Mary more than once gave vent to a frightened squeak. Once, in her extremity as we shaved the wheel of a passing cart, she unbent so far as to throw an appealing glance at me. But I sat in stony silence with crossed arms, looking oblivious to all that went on and somewhat resembling, I flattered myself, portraits of Napoleon beholding the burning of Moscow.

On the high road Jimmy began to recover his form-if it be worth the name-but, as if to show that he was all right, and never had been otherwise, he put the car at its quickest pace, which was so far from safe on a road dotted with carts that I began to expect trouble; and if it hadn't been for Miss Randolph, to see my expectation fulfilled would have pleased the baser part of me. Once or twice a cartload of peasants scowled savagely at us as we rushed past on our headlong career, and at length I had the satisfaction of hearing Miss Randolph rather stiffly suggest that Jimmy should moderate the pace. He obeyed with a laugh, which he meant to be recklessly brave, yet indulgent to the weaknesses of women; but in my ears it only sounded silly. At this moment a two-wheeled cart with five peasants in it-three men and two women-came in sight.

As soon as they saw us one of the men-a big, black-browed fellow-held up his hand imperatively in warning. Another fine, muscular chap jumped down and ran to the horse's head. Anyone with a grain of sense or consideration, on seeing these signals, would have slowed down, and if necessary have stopped the engine altogether; but though I heard Miss Randolph beg him to go slow, Sherlock-Fauntleroy held right on at a good twenty-five miles an hour.

In a moment or two we had come level with the cart, and the horse bolted. The man leading it was thrown violently to the ground, and the cart went over him. Luckily he tucked in his head and drew up his feet, or he would have been shockingly hurt, perhaps killed. He lay a moment or two, half stunned with the shock, while the horse galloped away, dragging after him the swaying cart, the two women screaming at the top of their voices. The man driving managed to pull up the frightened animals some way down the road, and the people in the cart scrambled out to help their fallen friend, who meanwhile had picked himself up, and pale with fright and passion, blood streaming down his face, was limping after the car gesticulating violently.

Payne had not turned his head, and the moment that a startled "Oh!" from Miss Randolph told him there had been an accident he put on speed, clearly with the intention of avoiding a row. The injured man stooped to pick up a stone. At the same instant Miss Randolph, in her most imperious manner (and she can be imperious), commanded Payne to stop instantly and go back. "But we shall have the whole pack of them on us like wolves," he objected. "Go back!" she repeated, stamping her little foot. "I won't hurt a man and drive away." Suddenly Payne pulled up, and putting in the reverse, we ran slowly into the midst of the horde of angry peasants, swollen now by many others who had been passing along the crowded road.

As we backed into that sea of scowling faces I thought of the various revolutions France has seen. It was like stirring up a wasps' nest. Everyone was yelling at once. In the front rank stood the man who had been knocked down, his trousers cut to tatters. He had lashed himself into such a fury that he had become almost incoherent, and the flood of speech which rushed from his white lips was more like the yells of an animal than the ordered utterance of a human being. By his side were the two women who had been in the cart, both sobbing and screaming, while everyone else in the angry mob shouted simultaneously. Aunt Mary went very pale; Payne looked upon his handiwork with a sulky grin; but Miss Randolph took the business in hand with the greatest pluck. She had whisked off her veil and faced the people boldly, her grey eyes meeting theirs, her face white, save for a bright pink spot on either cheek. At sight of her beauty the clamour died down, and in the lull she spoke to the man who had been thrown under the horse.

"I am very sorry you are hurt," she said, "and shall be pleased to give you something to buy yourself new clothes. Are you injured anywhere?"

At the sound of her correct but foreign-sounding French someone in the crowd shouted out, "A bas les Anglais!" The girl drew herself up proudly and looked in the direction of the voice. She didn't try to excuse herself by denying England and claiming a nationality more popular in France, and I loved her more than ever for this reticence.

"Pay!" shouted the man who had been hurt, with one hand wiping a trickle of blood out of his eye, with the other thumping the mud-guard of the car. "Of course you shall pay. God only knows what injuries I have received. Mazette! I am all one ache. Ah, you pay well, or you do not go on!" He pressed closer to the car, and his friends closed in around him.

"Pay them, Molly! pay anything they ask!" quavered Aunt Mary, "or they will kill us! Oh, I always knew something like this was bound to happen! What a fool I was to leave my peaceful home and come to a country of thieves and murderers!"

"Don't be frightened, Aunt Mary," said the girl, with more patience for her relative's garrulous complaints than I had. Then she turned to me. "Brown, is that man much hurt?" she asked briskly.

"No," I replied. "He is merely scratched, and no doubt bruised. If he had any bones broken, any internal injury or severe strain, he couldn't rage about like a mad bull."

"Still, it was our fault," she said. "We ought to have stopped. His clothes are torn. How much ought we to pay?"

"Nothing at all," said Sherlock. "Don't you let yourself be blackmailed."

She didn't answer or look in his direction, thus emphasising the fact that she had asked her question of me, not of him.

"Fifty francs would be generous," I said, "to buy the fellow a new suit of clothes and pay for a bottle of liniment. With that to-morrow he would be thanking his stars for the accident. But as Mr. Payne was driving, hadn't you better let him talk to them? It isn't right that two men should stand by and let the burden fall on a lady."

"You speak to them, Brown; I give you carte blanche," said she, and we faced the mob together.

"If you threaten us," I said, "you shall have nothing. We were going fast, but your horse is badly broken, and is more of a danger on the road than an automobile. If you behave yourself and tell your friends to do likewise, this lady wishes to give you fifty francs to buy new clothes in place of those which have suffered in this accident. But we don't intend to be bullied."

"Fifty francs!" shrieked the man. "Fifty francs for a man's life! Bah! You aristocrats! Five hundred francs; not a sou less, or you do not stir from this place. Fifty francs! Mazette!"

"You are talking nonsense, and you know it," said I roughly. "Stand out of our way, or we will send for the police."

Now this was bluff, for the last thing to be desired was the presence of the police. I had been careful to get in Paris the necessary permis de conduire from the Department of Mines, without which it is illegal to drive a motor vehicle of any sort in France. But I had heard Payne boasting to Miss Randolph that he never bothered himself about a lot of useless red tape; it was only milksops and amateurs who did that. I, as Brown, had kept "my master's" papers, but it would do more harm than good to our cause, should it come to an investigation, if I attempted to pass over my permit to Payne. Were the police to appear on the scene their first demand would be for papers, and if the man who had been driving were unable to produce any, not all our just complaints of the peasants' unlawful threats would help us. Payne would be liable to arrest and imprisonment; not only would he be heavily fined, but we should all be detained, perhaps for weeks; and as French magistrates have as strong a prejudice against the automobile as their English brothers, especially when the offender is a foreigner, it might go hard with everyone concerned. This would be a dismal interruption of our tour, and if I hadn't felt sure that the enemy would be in as great a funk of the police as we were, I wouldn't have ventured on so bold a bluff. I trembled internally for an instant as to its success, but as usual in life and poker, it paid.

"No, you don't!" shouted not the one peasant, but many in chorus, as unlike the merry peasant-chorus of light opera as you can imagine. "We won't have the police. We attend to this affair ourselves."

And it began to look as if they meant to. "Give the five hundred francs, or you will be sorry!" they yelled, and again, in a second, they were all surging round us, threatening with their fists, snatching out their pocket-knives, and I saw things were getting hot. A French crowd barks a good deal before it bites, but this one had come to the biting stage. We were far from town and the police, even if the latter wouldn't have done us more harm than good. Here we had Miss Randolph and Miss Kedison. If Payne were as useless as I judged him, I was one man against forty.

The two ladies were still on the car. Payne had got off at first, but had slipped back when things began to be lively. I alone was on the ground, close to the bonnet, so that if needful I could protect the motor and Miss Randolph at the same time.

The crowd consulted an instant, then stampeded the car. Aunt Mary shrieked, and threw out her purse, as if she flung a live lamb to hungry wolves. The motor was going still, but to charge into the crowd might mean killing a dozen wretched peasants. It was out of the question, but something must be done, and now was the moment for doing it. One fellow tried to snatch a sable rug off Miss Kedison's knees; I struck his hand away, and sent him staggering. Then I yelled to Payne to get into the tonneau There was no more pride left in him than in a rag, and he crawled over, like a dog. Meanwhile, I'd made up my mind what to do, and was going to try an experiment as our best chance to get out of the town without bloodshed.

I knew that a union which held the exhaust pipe in place on the silencer had been working loose. I grabbed a spanner out of the tool-box, and elbowing my way along the side of the car again, with two turns of the spanner loosened the union, pushed forward the throttle-lever in the steering-post, and gave the motor all its gas.

The thing was done in a quarter the time it's taken me to write of it, and you can guess the effect. Bang! bang! came a succession of explosions quick and pitiless as a Maxim gun. Those peasants gave way like wheat before the scythe. I don't doubt they thought they were shot and on the way to kingdom come; and before they'd time to find out their mistake I was up on the step, had seized the steering-wheel, and started the car. We were on a slight decline, and the good steed bounded forward at the rate of fifteen miles an hour. An instant later I slipped in the fourth, and we were going forty-five.

When the enemy saw how they'd been tricked, which they did in about six seconds, they were after us with a howl. A shower of stones fell harmlessly on the road behind us, angry yells were drowned in the hideous noise of the exhaust. We could afford to laugh at the thought of pursuit. But there was another side to the story. Now that there was no one on the spot to complain of their threats of violence, they could safely apply to the police and make a bold stroke for vengeance, just as we had for escape. However, there was no use in thinking of that for the moment; I had done the best I could and must go on doing it. No normal tympanum could stand the racket of the exhaust for long, and Miss Randolph and Miss Kedison were sitting with their hands over their ears, the lower part of Aunt Mary's face under her mask expressing a comical horror. I caught sight of her visage when I stopped the car (which I did as soon as we were beyond danger of pursuit) to fasten up the silencer again; and it was all I could do not to laugh.

The fastening-up business was an affair of two or three minutes, and at first the three sat in shocked silence, their heads dazed by the late ear-splitting din. Then, the cool peace of welcome silence was broken by Mr. Payne. "I consider," he said stiffly to Miss Randolph, "that your mécanicien has behaved with unwarrantable insolence in ordering me-"

"And I consider that he saved the situation," cut in the mécanicien's mistress.

"I acted for what I thought the best, miss; there wasn't much time to decide," said I, with a sleek humility which I assume on occasions. "If I have given offence, I am sorry," I went on, looking at her and not at Payne.

"You haven't given offence," she said. "I am sure Mr. Payne, when he comes to reflect, will see that you did yeoman's service. But what is to happen now? I suppose we're not safe from trouble yet, and we don't deserve to be."

I thought it rather sporting of her to say "we," when all the bother was due to the conceit and cocksureness of one person.

"No, miss, we don't deserve to be, if you'll excuse the liberty," I meekly replied. "We had no business charging along a crowded road the way we did. I'm sure, until to-day, we've never had anything but courtesy from people of all classes. It isn't often French peasants misbehave themselves, and to-day most of the wrong was on our side, though it's true that their horse was skittish; and being market-day, I daresay they'd taken a little more red wine than was good for them. The wine of this country is apt to go to the head."

I spoke to Miss Randolph, but at Jimmy, especially when I gave that dig about the wine. I finished my tirade and my work on the silencer at the same time, and it was then that my triumph came. Instead of getting back on the car, I stood still in the road.

"What are you waiting for?" asked Miss Randolph.

"For Mr. Payne to take his place in the driver's seat," said I.

At this he half jumped up in the tonneau, but Miss Randolph hurriedly exclaimed, "Oh, I think you had better drive for a while, Brown. I want to talk to you, and ask you what to do, and what will happen next." Little Lord Fauntleroy, with every Sherlockian characteristic temporarily obliterated, sat down again in the tonneau pouting.

We had not wasted five minutes, and now we sprang forward at a good speed for Carcassonne.

"What will happen next," I said, answering Miss Randolph's question, "may be this. If the peasants are angry enough to take the trouble and risk, all they have to do is to go to the police-station in the nearest village and give information against us, when a wire with a description of us and the car will raise the whole country so that we shall not be safe anywhere."

"Oh, my gracious!" the poor child exclaimed. "What are we to do? Aunt Mary and I have other hats and jackets and things in our car-luggage. Couldn't we change, so as to look quite different, and buy a lot of-of Aspinall, or something in the next village before they've had time to give the alarm, and paint the poor car a bright scarlet? Then we should get through and no one would know."

I couldn't help laughing, though really her suggestion wasn't so fantastic as it may sound, for I know a man who did that very trick in somewhat similar circumstances; but her earnestness combined with the childlike guile on her face was comic.

"It would be too long a job to paint the car before we could be spotted," I said. "I think we must just hope for the best, and show a bold face. I shouldn't be surprised if we'd get through all right somehow. Perhaps, if there was much money in your aunt's purse, miss, the peasants would prefer keeping their mouths shut and sticking to that than mixing themselves up with the police and perhaps losing what they might have had, like the dog with his meat in the fable."

"There were about a hundred francs in my purse," announced Aunt Mary.

"If they do catch us, what then?" the girl asked.

I explained the state of the case as I had argued it out to myself.

"Oh, well," sighed Miss Randolph, "I suppose we can't do better than take your advice, but this isn't a nice adventure. I do hate feeling guilty-like an escaping criminal, with every hand against me. And I loathe suspense; I always want to know the worst. When shall we be sure what the peasants have made up their minds to do?"

"Well," I said, "in less than an hour, if all goes well, we ought to be at the octroi station outside Carcassonne, and if we are 'wanted' by the police we shall know it fast enough, because they will-er-try to stop us there."

"Then I hope all won't go well," moaned Miss Randolph. She who had been so brave when forty peasants threatened us with words, stones, and even knives, was crushed under the vague menace of the law. "If only we could arrive after dark we might flash through before the octroi people knew. Let's arrive after dark," she exclaimed eagerly. "It's getting on towards four now. Let's stop-since we've been perfectly certain for ages that no one was attempting to follow us-and-and deliberately have tea by the roadside. If we do that we can easily pass the time, so as not to arrive at the octroi until half-past five, when it will be dark. It's moonlight, but the moon doesn't rise now till six or after."

"We could do that certainly" I said, "and we might get through without being nabbed. If we succeed, we might rush on through Carcassonne, instead of stopping there to-night; for the farther away we get and the more towns we can say we've passed through without being detained, the better for our chances of ultimate escape."

"But I don't want to miss Carcassonne," she objected. "You've told me so much about the place that I've been looking forward to it more than to almost anything else."

So had I, if the truth were known, but I had looked forward to visiting Carcassonne with her before I had "drunk and seen the spider." In other words, before Mr. Payne had joined our party. However, I couldn't bear to have her disappointed, for his fault, too; besides, I'm vain enough to like hearing from her lips the flattering words, "Brown, you are so resourceful!" Therefore I stirred up my brains in the effort to be resourceful now.

"We might hide the car in Carcassonne if we could once get in," I mysteriously suggested; "then you could steal up on foot to the cité by moonlight, and when you'd had your fill of sight-seeing steal back to the car again and make a rush for it."

"Splendid!" cried Miss Randolph, clapping her hands. Behold, I had made a hit!

The car was stopped, the tea-basket got out, and who so indispensable as the late despised Brown? Brown it was who went to a cottage hard by and procured drinking-water, since, not expecting to stop, we had come out unprovided. Brown it was who saved the methylated spirit from upsetting, and Brown was rewarded presently with an excellent cup of tea, into which Miss Randolph had dropped two lumps of sugar with her own blessed little pink-tipped fingers. As a matter of fact, in ordinary circumstances sugar in tea is medicinal to my taste; but when that angel sat with a lump between her fingers asking how many I would have, though she had just let Jimmy Sherlock put in his own, I would have said half a dozen, if that would have left any over for her. And if the taste was medicinal, why, it had a curative effect on my injured feelings.

Refreshed, invigorated by more than tea, I felt ready for anything. Darkness was falling, but I didn't light the lamps. The road was empty, a torch of dusky red blazing along the west. We started, going cautiously; our tongues silent, our eyes alert. By-and-by, from afar off, we caught the twinkle of low-set, yellow lights. We were coming to the neighbourhood of the octroi Luckily it was cold; the door and windows of the house would certainly be shut, unless the men were engaged in transacting business in the road. I now hurriedly explained to Miss Randolph the exact method I meant to adopt, and the word was passed round to be "mum." While the tea-things were being packed away, a short time ago, I had well oiled the wheels and chains; the car moved as silently as a bat, except for the chuff! chuff! of the motor. About a hundred yards from the lights I put on speed, and when we had begun to scud along like a ship with all sails set, I took out the clutch and let the motor run free. By this time we were within thirty yards of a building which I now felt certain was the octroi The car, which had been going extremely fast, dashed on, coasting past the little lighted house by its own impetus. Not a sound, not a creak of a wheel, not the grating of a chain.

On we sped for full forty yards past the octroi before we lost speed, and I had to slip in the clutch.

"Oh, Brown!" breathed my Goddess ecstatically. Just that, and no more. But if I had been Jack Winston and asked her to marry me at this moment, I believe she would have said "yes," in sheer exuberance of grateful bliss.

So far, so good, but we were not yet out of the wood. We drove quietly on into the town, expecting every moment to be challenged for not lighting our lamps, though we were within our rights, really, dark as it was, for it was not yet an hour after sunset. But nothing happened; not even a dog barked. We crossed the high bridge spanning the Aude, and the old cité, which we had come to see, loomed black against the dusky sky. No one molested us; no fiery gendarme leaped from the shadows commanding us to stop. My small trumps were taking all the tricks, but I had a big one still in my hand. We were now-having crossed the bridge and left the new town behind us-in a comparatively deserted region.

"My idea," I said quietly to Miss Randolph, "is to drive the car into some dark, back street, far from the ken of the gendarme It is six o'clock. People are sitting down to dinner. That is in our favour. I shall, if possible, find a place where the car may stand for several hours without being remarked, while your visit is paid to the cité. Here, now, is the very place!" I broke short my disquisition to remark; for as I elaborated my plan, driving very slowly, we had arrived before a dingy mews with a waggon standing, shafts down, on the cobbles. I turned in and stopped both car and motor.

"This shelter might have been made for us," I said, beginning to find a good deal of pleasure in the situation. "The only difficulty is" (out with my big trump) "that of course someone must stay with the car. It is my place, miss, to do so. But, unfortunately, it is after hours for showing the ramparts, the interior of the towers, the dungeons, and so on, which are really the attractions of the wonderful, old restored mediæval city. I have been here before. I know the gardien, and might, if I were in the party, induce him to make an exception in your favour. Still, as it is, the best I can do will be to write a note and ask him to take you through."

Jimmy laughed, or I should say, chortled. "I should think a banknote would appeal to the gardien's intelligence better than any other kind," said he, "and I will see that he gets it."

"I advise you not to do that, sir," I remarked quietly. "The gardien here isn't that sort of man at all. He would be mortally offended if you tried to bribe him, and would certainly refuse to do anything for you."

"I'm sure a letter would be of very little use," said Miss Randolph. "I think we must manage to have you with us somehow, Brown. Couldn't we hire a man to look after the car?"

"I shouldn't like to take the risk," said I. "And remember, miss, we are in hiding."

"I don't want to see the old thing," protested Aunt Mary. "I've gone through so much to-day I feel a thousand years old. I'm not going to climb any hills or see any sights. I want my dinner."

"I think we'd better get on," advised Sherlock. "Not much fun poking about in a lot of old ruins in the dark."