Lanyard counted four figures, two on the front seat, two in the tonneau.  More than this, the headlong speed and the failing light rendered it impossible to see—­though had the one been less and the other stronger, he could have gained little more information from inspection of those four shapes shrouded in dust coats and masked with goggles.

Watching its rear light dwindle, he fancied that the grey shadow was slowing down; but one could not be sure about that.

“There is something wrong, monsieur?”

The man Leon was at his elbow.  Lanyard replied with the curt nod of a disgruntled motorist.

“Something—­Jules can tell you,” he said shortly.

“Meanwhile, Mademoiselle Delorme and I have decided not to wait.  We’ve got no time to spare.  We will take your car and go on.”

“But, monsieur, I—­” Leon began to expostulate.

The icy accents of Liane Delorme cut it:  “Well, Leon:  what is your objection?”

“Objection, madame?” the fellow faltered.  “Pardon—­but it is not for me to object.  I—­I was merely startled.”

“Then get over that at once,” he was advised; “and bring my jewelcase—­Marthe will point it out to you—­to the touring-car.”

“Yes, madame, immediately.”

“Also the lunch-hamper, if you please.”

“Assuredly, monsieur.”

Leon departed hastily for the limousine, where Marthe joined him, while Lanyard and Liane Delorme proceeded to the touring car.

“But what on earth do you want with that hamper, monsieur?”

“Hush, little sister, not so loud!  Brother thinks he has another idea.”

“Then Heaven forbid that I should interfere!”

Staggering under its weight, Leon shouldered the jewelcase and carried it to the touring car, where Liane superintended its disposal in the luggage-jammed tonneau.  A second trip, less laborious, brought them the hamper.  Liane uttered perfunctory thanks and called to Jules, who was still tinkering at the limousine engine with the aid of an electric torch.

“Come, Jules!  Leave Leon to attend to what is required there.”

“Very good, madame.”

Jules strolled over to the touring car and settled down at the wheel.  Liane Delorme had the seat beside him.

Lanyard had established himself in a debatable space in the tonneau to which his right was disputed by bags and boxes of every shape, size and description.

“How long, Jules, will Leon need—?”

“Five minutes, madame, if he takes his time about it.”

“Then let us hasten.”

They drew away from the limousine so quickly that in thirty seconds its headlights were all that marked its stand.

Lanyard studied the phosphorescent dial of his wristwatch.  From first to last the transaction had consumed little more than three minutes.

Liane slewed round to talk over the back of the seat.