As I rose to my feet, the car came gently to rest twenty-five paces away.

"All right?" panted Berry by my side.

"Every time," said I. "And now for it." I turned to a gaping youth.

"_Allez cherche la police,_" I flung at him. "_Vite!_"

As we came up to the car--

"And may I ask," drawled a voice, "the meaning of this hold-up? I guess you'll get tired of answering before you're through, but, as the owner of this vehicle, I'm just curious."

"Cut it out," said I shortly. "And just come out of that car. Both of you."

So far as the speaker's companion was concerned, my injunction was supererogatory. Even as I spoke, with a scream of agony the latter emerged from the car. Holding him fast by the wrist, Berry had almost broken his arm across the jamb of the door.

"And why?" said the voice imperturbably.

"Because the game's up." I opened the door. "Besides, to tell you the truth, we're rather particular about our cushions. Till now, no one with more than three previous convictions has ever sat on them."

With narrowed eyes, a very square-faced gentleman regarded me grimly.

"If you hadn't damaged my car," he said slowly. "I'd get out and refashion your physiognomy. But I guess I'll wait for the police."

And, with that, he drew a cigar from his pocket, bit off the end, spat, and then lighted the brand with great deliberation.

I began to think rapidly.

Violence was out of the question. The fellow was far heavier than I, and obviously as hard as nails. Moreover, I felt instinctively that the Queensberry Rules did not mean much to him. As for cunning--well, we were not in the same cla.s.s. Here was an audacity such as I had not dreamed of. Having lost one throw, the fellow was doubling his stake.

Hook having broken in his hand, he had dropped it and picked up Crook.

_His game was to bluff the French police_. That was why he was staying in the car--to give the impression of ownership. If he could maintain this impression, make it easy for the police to wash their hands of a dispute between foreigners, so find favour in their eyes, just turn the scale sufficiently to be allowed to proceed "pending the fullest inquiries"--it might go hard with us....

I fancy he read my thoughts, for he took the cigar from his mouth and laughed softly.

"Up against it, aren't you?" he said.

At last a _gendarme_ arrived, and five minutes later we were all on the way to the police-station.

This was not to my gentleman's taste, but he was too shrewd a knave to press his point. Honesty was his best policy. He did demand hotly that I should be taken in charge, but I had the better of him in French, and after a moment he let that iron go. He fought very hard for the services of a mechanic, but I was determined that the engine should remain out of action, and, calling for volunteers upon the crowd of unlookers, soon satisfied the _gendarme_ that to push the car to the station was easy enough.

Holding fast to the accomplice, who, for reasons best known to himself, was adopting an injured air in sulky silence, Berry walked by my side.

"What's his game?" he muttered. "In the face of our papers, he's done."

"He'll swear they're his, for a monkey. They're in the car. Probably read them through, while you were looking for me. And all the details are on the Travelling Pa.s.s. But he's got to get over the photograph."

"Well, it's up to you," said Berry. "I used to think I could bluff, but this--this is beyond me."

When we arrived at the police-station the chief of the police was summoned, and we told our respective tales.

Our enemy spoke first--shortly, but much to the point.

He was returning, he said, to Pau, where he was staying with friends.

Finding that he had run out of petrol, while he was pa.s.sing through Tarbes, he had turned into a side-street to refill without obstructing a main thoroughfare. As he was starting again, an a.s.sault had been made--an unprovoked a.s.sault--seriously damaging the car. Thereupon he had sent for the police. Now, foiled in their enterprise, the thieves, he understood, were actually daring to say that he had a.s.saulted them.

One of them--he nodded at Berry--had certainly been roughly handled, but, Mon Dieu, what did they expect? (Here he took out his watch and frowned at the dial.) And now would the police get to work? His friends at Pau would be wondering what had become of him.

I admit that you could have pushed me over.

Upon the question of ownership the rogue said not a word. The whole onus of raising that issue he had thrust on to me. I was to broach the barrel of improbability, and by so doing to taint my whole case...

The police were manifestly impressed.

There was no doubt at all that we were up against it.

The asperity with which the official asked me what we had to say sent my heart into my boots.

I started to tell my story.

The moment I said that the car belonged to us, police and robber stared at me as if bewitched. Then the latter exploded.

It was certainly very well done.

Such fulminations of outraged dignity, such out-pourings of righteous indignation, never were witnessed. It took the united sympathy and a.s.surance of the whole personnel of the station, to smooth the ruffian down. After a while, however, he condescended to see the humorous side. The police laughed with him....

Throughout my recital I had to endure the like.

As for the chief of police, he was plainly extremely bored. He listened, patently because it was his duty to let me speak. His cold, indifferent air, the way in which his eyes went straying about the room, were simply maddening.

Desperately endeavouring to keep my temper, I ploughed my way on.

At last--

"Listen," I said dramatically. "You do not believe me. I do not blame you. My friend has told a good tale. At present it is my word against his. Supposing I bring some evidence?"

"What evidence can you bring?"

"The papers belonging to the car." I pointed to the usurper. "On his own showing I cannot have seen them. Yet I will tell you their contents. I pray you, send for them. They're in the left----"

"Wrong, sonny," said my antagonist, tapping his coat. "I always carry 'em here." And, with that, he drew out our wallet and flung it upon the desk.

With our Pa.s.s in his hands, the chief of the police blinked at me.

"The cha.s.sis number?" he said.

"P 1709."

Up went his eyebrows.

"And on the number-plates?"

"XD 2322."