The car swept up the drive, and stopped before the porch.  The chauffeur looked round for orders.

“Turn the car first, George.  Then ring the bell, and get back to your place.  Keep the engine going, and be ready to scoot like hell when I give the word.”

“Very good, sir.”

The front door was opened by the butler.  Kramenin felt the muzzle of the revolver pressed against his ribs.

“Now,” hissed Julius.  “And be careful.”

The Russian beckoned.  His lips were white, and his voice was not very steady: 

“It is I—­Kramenin!  Bring down the girl at once!  There is no time to lose!”

Whittington had come down the steps.  He uttered an exclamation of astonishment at seeing the other.

“You!  What’s up?  Surely you know the plan——­”

Kramenin interrupted him, using the words that have created many unnecessary panics: 

“We have been betrayed!  Plans must be abandoned.  We must save our own skins.  The girl!  And at once!  It’s our only chance.”

Whittington hesitated, but for hardly a moment.

“You have orders—­from him?”

“Naturally!  Should I be here otherwise?  Hurry!  There is no time to be lost.  The other little fool had better come too.”

Whittington turned and ran back into the house.  The agonizing minutes went by.  Then—­two figures hastily huddled in cloaks appeared on the steps and were hustled into the car.  The smaller of the two was inclined to resist and Whittington shoved her in unceremoniously.  Julius leaned forward, and in doing so the light from the open door lit up his face.  Another man on the steps behind Whittington gave a startled exclamation.  Concealment was at an end.

“Get a move on, George,” shouted Julius.

The chauffeur slipped in his clutch, and with a bound the car started.

The man on the steps uttered an oath.  His hand went to his pocket.  There was a flash and a report.  The bullet just missed the taller girl by an inch.

“Get down, Jane,” cried Julius.  “Flat on the bottom of the car.”  He thrust her sharply forward, then standing up, he took careful aim and fired.

“Have you hit him?” cried Tuppence eagerly.

“Sure,” replied Julius.  “He isn’t killed, though.  Skunks like that take a lot of killing.  Are you all right, Tuppence?”

“Of course I am.  Where’s Tommy?  And who’s this?” She indicated the shivering Kramenin.

“Tommy’s making tracks for the Argentine.  I guess he thought you’d turned up your toes.  Steady through the gate, George!  That’s right.  It’ll take ’em at least five minutes to get busy after us.  They’ll use the telephone, I guess, so look out for snares ahead—­and don’t take the direct route.  Who’s this, did you say, Tuppence?  Let me present Monsieur Kramenin.  I persuaded him to come on the trip for his health.”