MAN V. MOTOR

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXVI, Issue 23, 9 June 1906, Page 50

MAN V. MOTOR

THE STORY OF A MAN-HUNT.

By

T. W. McKAIL.

"W T’OU wilt make no effort io escape y while I dictate the terms*” I / looked steadily at the revolver muzzle and the tigerish face be-

hind it. 1 noticed how lovingly the forefinger carressed the trigger, and felt Ik>w entirely I was in the power of thia man. . , . ~ “I will not.” “Very good,-Mr.- Morse. Then you will have the kindness to sit on the bank opposite while I unfold you my plan of'action.” 1 crossed the road and sat down at the point indicated by Malpas. He took a cigar out of a case and lit it deliberately, eyeing me the while as a cat eyes a mouse. “We will be brief and business-like,” he continued, producing a road-map and laying it open on his knee. “The. two main points of the whole concern are these: First, I have you entirely at my merry. A touch of the trigger and Frederick Alvara Malpas is avenged. When I saw you in the Rue Grand Pont yesterday my first impulse was one of instant retaliation; tart more prudent counsels prevailed. I determined to await a better opportunity and take a longer revenge-.-— ■ “T*e seejjnd’poipt, then, is'the method of - Ten years' in Sing Sing cannot wiped off tlie .slate l*>y the swift ?*/» bullet. I have in .my mind a Sterne wjrlgh, will yield/me w.rj exquisite-..-pleamtre, and at the time brir'ig Jiu 'an ’.element,'of* nporfe” ~ »: ‘ f' He took i tew' puffs at his tlgar, and 1 ' moistened . hia'.lips. as .though in anti--cipation of a most choice bill of fare. He gloated, over his doming revenge. To in suspense was part of it ; so he sat silent awhile, the very picture of malignity. Yes! Sport! Besides. I want to Rive you a chance. You gave me a chanee years ago when you secured me • post in your bank. It shall, at least, he said that I can remember a benefit as well as an injury. But the element of ehance must be reduced to a minimum. I have here”—he tapped the map on his knee—“ an-excellent plan of the roads round Rouen. With its help I fihall be able to indicate the exact route to be taken in what may be termed a novel game of .hare and hounds—you, of course, being thy hare.” The Foret de Rouvray seemed deserted by both man and beast. Neither up nor down the road could I see any sign, of approaching succour. My mind travelled rapidly over the. events that had, led up to the present position: the rifling of the safes by our trusted " cashier; t-h'e trial; the. damning* "e’vi- * denee produced- by me; * the sentence : the look of hideous, cruel hatred which the condemned cast at me as the officers of the law hurried him from the dock. I read again in my mind the threatening aunonymous notes sent from Sing Sing. ,

If anything was wanting to make Malpas hate me it was supplied by my bringing home to him the gold robbery tof the savings bank. I felt that I might as well hope to squeeze water from a flint*as expect mercy from him. “The road we shall take is' as follows: From here to Elboeuf, through Klrand Essart. From Elboeuf tow.ard daniviers, turning sharply to the left before we enter that town. Then to Tone de I’Arche, where we cross the tSeine and follow its right bank to Rouen. The total distance ’is "about thirty-five miles. You will have three kninutes start, and then it will lie a r“Rg* e , between human muscle and niolor-car. The car, Jis capable of only about eighteen miles an hour on the level, being, fortunately for you, not a modem type, but your full powers will be required to keep you ■head. If I eatcb you. as no doubt I

shall, two courses will be open to me. I may either shoot you, if the opportunity offers to_do so without danger to myself, or, I can ride .you downft The latter alternative will be the safer, for if it proves fatal to you I can say it was your fault; and if not fatal— the car weighs nearly a ton.’,' * ,

He spoke in a matter-of-fact tone as though he were announcing the details of an excursion to a party of trippers. Yet his words brought a little comfort.

“By the bye, there is one thing I must add,” he said, slowly blowing a ring of gray smoke; “the chances seem all in your favour. You doubtless think that the byways and hedges, to say nothing of the towns, will afford you hiding-places. But beware! You remember Boshier, who was mixed up in the gold-bag affair? Well, our release came on the same day. As soon as we were again masters of our own actions, our first thoughts turned to revenge. So, by an arrangement, of which I don’t mean to tell you the details, we have jointly woven a web about you from which you can escape only at the expense of your family. Boshier is watching them at Shanklin.” - :

He spoke with sueh cruel assurance that I could only feel my extreme helplessness.- The complicity of Boshoief in the scheme ,flf revenge was quite' outside my calculations. Malpafe'* devilish.plans..were indeed, ebmpjetef .Stow could-I hope to -escape this insensatej-’thing-of rubber’ and steel? How. on--the other hand, could-1 refuse .to make v the attempt? He tossed the map across, saying: “You had better study that for a few minutes while I overhaul my car and see that everything is in order. The sign-posts are so good that you can scarcely miss the way accidently; but you must be careful not to take the short cut from Elboeuf to Pont de I’Arche bv the river.” ■■ ■ ;

Then he took a small parcel out of his pocket and undid it, revealing six shining revolver cartridges. “Nothing like plenty of ammunition,” he added, almost jocularly, with a sudden change of manner. “One never knows what may be needed to finish the job properly.”

This was not comforting; but I picked up the map and pretended to study it. I knew the route well enough, having traversed it a few days before. The contrast between that pleasant ride and the present crisis was so great that I felt inclined to throw away the little shred of hope and dare Malpas to do his worst. But I' thought of the dear ones at home. The instinct of life rose strong within me. “It is time for you to start, Mr. Morse. But, before starting, one more thing must be told you. Supposing you reach Rouen in advance of me, I shall, for the time being, take.no further steps to injure you. You'had lietter not make any attempts on my liberty, however, because intention apart from action is nothing illegal. You can't prove anything against me until I have struck a blow. You can’t bring home to me those arinohymcpis notes. You ean’t even produce witnesses to my present actions. »So I say again, beware!” < He drew out his watch and...continued: lot .

“In , three minutes from the time when I say .‘Off,’ I shall start ; sb be ready. I’erhaps you will pledge me your word as a gentleman to keep to the route we have agreed upon. An American’s word goes .for a .Rood; deal even in Franep.*..* - *’< ;<’ It seemed exceedingly strange Malpas should make such a request, with me entirely at his mercy. I did not then know that complicity df Boshier was a mens fiction, and that he was

trying to substitute for it my sense of honour. The impudence of the fellow stung me to retort.

“No, yoh scoundrel, I won’t!’ ’ I shouted furiously, forgetful of pru-

dence. “You might just as well ask a c-rirriinal to give his word as a gentleman* to stand quite still while the dropbolt is drawn. If you were more than half American you would never have made such a suggestion; but I promise you that I will do my best to prevent your being a murderer as well as a common thief.”

I know that the taunt cut Malpas to the quick, for his swarthy face turned pale, and his dark eyes burned with hatred.

“So you call me a common thief. Mr. Morse,” he said. “Say,- rather, embezzler; an embezzler is a much greater person than a thief, you know. As to the ■ term murderer, it yet remains to lie justified, though you have done your best to provoke me to murder. ()nlv the pleasure of a hunt saved you. But the insult must not pass unnoticed: you will now have only two minutes’ start.” - - • ■ .

He mounted the ear—a yellow-wheel-ed Panhard —and seating himself behind the steering-wheel, said: “Nou - , then, up you get. No shirking, and “remember your family. One, two three, off!” * • -

As may be imagined,; I lost no time; so much depended upon th'ose first two minutes. I* believe I ruffe- the first mile as'fasl -fs any human being'could have covered it. Talk about competition for bringing oirUa man's powers! it is nothing to the stimulus provided by the fear of death. My feet flew madly round, at a pace I had hitherto only dreamed of. At Grand Essart I narrowly missed a collision with a small boy carrying two buckets. The fault was mine rather than his, being the result of confusing the French with the English rule of the road. I had not been long enough in France after my sojourn in England to take the right side instinctively as I should have done in America. The boy stared open-mouthed at the “mad American,” and dropping his buckets, he fled into the nearest cottage. This escape made me more careful. I glanced over my shoulder and got a momentary glimpse of the motorcar still in the distance. For the present 1 was making the running, and took comfort in thinking that I should out-distance him. If I could only keep up the pace! Pines gave way to the welcome shade of maple ami hornbeam. Ringing wildly, I dashed round corners at a breakneck .-ipeeii, to the consternation -of more than one brown-faced, woodendogged Norman. Before I could believe it I was on the slope descending into Elboeuf. Riding now became dangerous, owing to the sharp bends that characterise the French road-engineer's work on steep hills. I rode with my life in my hands, whirling round at acute angles to the ground, praying that what vehicles might be about would meet me in the intervals between corners. By good luck, only one market waggon met me. and in a few minutes I was tearing along under the failway bridge and up the outlying streets. An electric-car fell behind as if it had bfet'i* ‘standing Still. Soon cobble paving dbliged me *lb slacken speed. Chiding’lny machirie carefully among the traffic of the main street, I reached', the' open country again on level macadam.’ “ •*'' i

The thought that Malpas' Would be even more hampered than I had been, caused a sudden thrill of exhilaration. 1 blessed my forethought in overhauling tlie machine now quivering between my legs; I 'blessed the art of the -French road-maker. But my exaltation was premature.* When within six feet of a cast horse shoe bristling with nails, I

suddenly noticed it, and the violent swerve made to avoid it threw me completely off .my balatme. Fortunately my shoulders bore the brunt of the collision with the ground. As soon as the first stage of pained bewilderment had passed. I rose to my feet. AU hope seemed jarred out of me. The cycle lay on the other side of the road. *1 picked it np and shook it to ascertain - the damage. I spun the wheels; the front was a good deal buckled, but could dear the forks. The right pedal brushed the crank at every revolution, but could turn. The bell was a wreck. No time* this for lament or examination of bruises. Forward, at all cost! Yes; that doud of dust did contain a car—so close too! — • Up I tumbled again, and made off—painfully, but swiftly. 1 * 'At* the first corner I’nearly ran into a gentleman. * ” • “By George, it’s Morse!” exclaimed a voice, which I recognised as that of my friend Alhusen. to whose house I was riding when Malpas overtook me. I eould not stay to explain—time pressed. Onward,' ever onward; so -I - left Mr. Alhusen to solve the mystery as best he might. > • t Oh, terrible are those moments when the body cries out. “Stop! Stop!” and the mind shouts. “Go on! Go on!” The pain of years seemed concentrated into that struggle with the French hill —pain, mental as well as physical, so great were the stakes.. Nearer and nearer came the “kiss! kiss!” of the car. I felt that I was lost: to a feeling of utter exhaustion was joined a sensation of pleasure at the thought that all would soon be over—and a Bollee voiturette flashed by me up the hill. The intense mental relief at once spread to my limbs; and to the aid of my spent sinews the northwesterly wind came singing though the spokes, turning the ascent into level road. Then in imagination I pictured Malpas smiling at my struggles —perhaps even holding in his steed to prolong my agony. ; Could he have but realised my suffering, part, at least, of his vengeance would have been satisfied. Doubt soon changed t-o despair; for some -way in front lay a level crossing, and the gates were shut! The, devil and the deep sea! There.,was . for calculation. r J dashed up Jo the 3 gates, clapped on. the brake sa suddenly. ~, that part of the rubber stripped off the front cover, and in.a moment.stood on the permanent way, machine and all; then pver the second obstacle, heedless of what the gatekeeper said. That level crossing was my salvation. It checked Malpas for about, two minutes. I made good use of the time, snapping my fingers at him and his stinking petroleum-pot in a fresh access of hope. The front tyre, however, caused me some anxiety. The eanvas beneath the rubber showed white at every revolution. Yet there was small fear of puncture if I kept my eyes well open.

I hurried on through the Foret du Pont de I’Arehe in pursuit of the dust-clouds which the wind raised from the roads and blew into the trees, not daring to look behind me. Tlie noise of the motor cylinder was wa-fted doWn to me so distinctly that I thought Malpas must be gaining ground rapidly. As a matter of fact a good quarter mile separated us when I reached the beginning of a long down-slope. Here, if anywhere, I must improve my position. A waggon was ascending the' hill heavily laden with hurdles. The driver slept on his seat; but the horses, kept to the middle of the road. I passed easily enough; not so Malpas. who was obliged to stop and curse the driver into wakefulness; The sounds of his oaths came as music to mv ears.

In a few moments my front tyre began to jam mud against the brake, rubber, causing considerable extra friction. The chain tightened by the wet—for it began to rain—gave out a rapid series of sharp eracks. I was drenched to the skin very soon, but my mind was too occupied -with other matters to heed that.

How . 1 cursed, myself . for allowing Malpas to get. me into this straight, have stretch of road, where 1 had about as muVh chance of eluding pursuit as a rat has of escaping a ferret in a drain! If only-I had slipped in. to,, the ..woods and retraced my way to Rouen!

Hiss! A bullet hummed past me and flung up. a spurt io>f .rnijd in front to the right. Malpas was firing under cover of the thunder. In such weather them would be nobody abroad to see or hear. > I divined his little game at once; and when the next clap came swerved mjg bicycle sharply t-o the right. Another

tuDet screamed put, thia time to the left. I hud avoided it, but at the edst ' •f so violent a skid that I determined to ~ take my chanee and not repeat the (uaaoeuvre. Two more bullets followed, but both Hew wide. Instead of feeling any fear I fell again into a state of apathy. •‘Ha! ha! Mr Morse, so you have given me a good run after all!” said Malpas’ voiee, a few yards behind. “I was beginning to fear that you would get. to earth before I eonld try conclusions. Considering your forty years, you, make an exceedingly game fox, and really deserve to get off.” I plucked the lamp off its bracket and hurled it behind me in the road, then my coat after it; anything to save weight. _

"Really, Mr. Morse, you surprise me,” continued my tormentor, in a tone which suggested that he was smiling mockingly; "you make rather free with lamps and coats. Not that it will do you any good. That little revolver prac-' tice was merely to let you know of my ■whereabouts. I can do a great deal better than that if I try. Dear me! what would the charming Mrs. Morse say it a decimal 330 were to strike her beloved husband in the back! It makes me laugh io see you wobbling along like a cross between a drowned rat and a clerk out enjoying a holiday scoreh.” Weary as I was, his taunts so maddened me that I squeezed out sufficient work to take myself out of earshot. For some reason, Malpas seemed to be losing ground, and the hiss of his car gradually faded into the patter of rain. .My mind was made up. Could I but get the chance 1 would slip into the wood, which began shortly after the first bend in the road. Thanks to the previous ride 1 knew my bearings pretty accurately. I got round-the corner well ahead of Malpas. An open gate lay ready to hand. Through it I rode, and pushed my cycle far into, the dripping hazel and hornbeam. The rain fell off the .trees in a regular deluge, soaking any dry portions of my clothing that remained. Water squelched in my shoes and obscured my glasses, so that 1 could scarcely sec whither I was going. I weaving the eycle -flat-on the ground, 1 worked my"way toward the-outside of the wood, where, screened by the •bracken, I watched for the ear. ; I-t did - not' - appear aS Aooir as I anticipated. Tiie rain was thiek enough to form a kind of” ihist. I hoped tha.t Malpas would not notice that I had’left the road until he had gone on a long distance. But the mud in the road betrayed me. Malpas saw St a glance the tracks leading into the wood, and brought his car to a standstill. He dismounted with something gleaming in his hand. As he turned his face was toward me, and if ever I read the determination to commit murder it was there. I heard him pushing a way through the bushes, where the marks of my feet in the wet grass must have been plain enough. Should I trust to concealment, or spring upon him unawares and possess myself of the revolver? But what could 'a man, exhausted by twenty miles’ furious riding, hope to do against one whose work had been nothing more severe than to manage a eouple of handles?So I lay quite still, hardly daring to move or breathe, lest the cracking of a twig should reveal my hiding place. M'alpas soon found my cycle, -and uttered a hoarse cry of triumph. Well he might, for it was my sole means of escape. The sole means? No! the motor car stood in the road. I knew how to start the mechanism. If Malpas wished to catch me he should have a turn at the cycle. Before I was ten seconds older 1 had climbed into the ear. But to my dismayall my efforts to.start it were unavailing; probably Malpas had foreseen the manoeuvre. To stay where I was would • be dangerous; but I did not mean do leave the ear as I found it. Taking out my knife, I -leaped down and eut two large slits in the baek tyres. The air came out with a hiss loud enough to be heard a hundred yards off. I sawnow what had delayed Malpas—my coat, small shreds of which still clung to parts of the machinery. No doubt the wheels had picked- it' up off the road and it had gradually been dragged into the cogs. There- was !, «o time to lose, so I went forward to -treat the front tyres like the others. Scarcely had my knife touched the rubber of one, when ar-' bullet splashed into the back of thc-car, and made me look up. Thirty yards away Malpas was preparing-for a seeond shot;. With the agility born of necessity I regained

the wood, closely pursued; but not before a sensation of hot iron passed across my right ealf. I doubled baek on my tracks, and soon fousid my cycle, which Malpas hadAot harrtime to injure. To snatch it up was the work of a moment. Hasels switched my face eruelly as I pushed through them, leaving at least one scar which I carry today as a memento. Before Malpas had cleared the wood I was fifty yards up the road riding for dear life. I got a glimpse of him kneeling on the grass with his left arm up. I crouched in the saddle so avoiding the bullet. Another struck the cycle somewhere behind. I heard fragments of lead scatter among the bushes, but my machine seemed none the worse. Then another and another; and 1 was out of range uninjured.

So once again I took my courage in both hands, as the Frenchmen say, and reasoned with myself. About fourteen miles more to go; a bleeding leg; muddy roads; rain beating down vigorously. Not a pleasant outlook indeed; but the pursuer had missed his best opportunity, and wasted the greater part of him ammunition. At most he started with twelve cartridges; ten of these were expended. He would be sure to reserve the other two for close quarters. Thank goodness I had managed to rip up his tyres. That meant a good many miles an hour off. Pont de I’Arche was elose now, and once over the river, I should la? in more thickly populated, and, therefore, for me. safer, country.

In the intense desire to gain even this much. I forgot thrist. pain and fatigue. Should the body disobey the will? No! X might drop dead, but not otherwise ..would I yield to this ever-increasing sense of exhaustion. The. struggle between fixed resolve and physical fatigue resulted in a state of semi-torpor, from which I was rudely awakened by the cobbles.. of Pont I’Arche. A pest on that medieval invention of the devil, that foul , blot on the splendid thoroughfares of France —■ a pave road! The jarring transmitted by the machine tortured my wounded leg. but it- helped combat the stupor gradually clouding my senses. I remember crossing .a long bridge. over the river, , then shorter , one.a. railway, and longing for the speed of the, train that .rushed beneath as I passed.,. Then there came another of those fearful inclines. My. head. ,swam. there was buzzing in my ears; but I clenched my teeth and spurned the pedals desperately. The faculty of hearing seemed to desert me. My machine made no sound in the wind, and the pelting rain fell like shot into velvet —noiselessly. Ping! I heard that; the right handle grip flew into atoms. My hand must have been there a moment before. Malpas was at my heels. I dodged him from side to side like a rabbit, losing ground at every . turn. The car came closer and closer. My hour was approaching. “You devil!” screamed a voice, at my elbow, so it seemed. "You’d escape me, would you. by your dirty tricks! Y es, duck and dodge, and dodge and duck, as much as you like, but you wont be able to get out of the way of this messenger.” . . 1 knew that tbe. last bullet would be soon dispatched. Many times 1 felt it grinding its way into my vitals. The - suspense was awful, intolerable. By instinct 1 bent forward, with my head drooping over the handle-bar. Then it came; but the flask in my hippocket proved a good friend in need. Malpas thought .1 was done for, and uttered a sound like a snarl of a wild beast. That cry restored my balance, mental and physical. His magazine was empty! He saw me pedal with renewed vigour, and in furious disappointment ■ hurled his revolver, which, after whiz- - zing close to. my .head, leaped .gleaming _ . along the road. Man against man and oil now! Human muscle with petroleum gas! He tried to ride me down. How I kept ahead I can't imagine, unless it be that a special cherub is told , off to help hunted men. Twice his w;heels.brushed my baek tyre ever so slightly; twenty times I slipped in the treacherous mud. We were on a down slope' now, flying along at a tremendous pace. I gained little by. little, a foot, a few yards, maybe. Still that accursed yellow thing thundered in,, the rear, spitting and panting, like a demon thristing for my life-blood, Its evil breath was upon me again. The hiss, of the cylinder sounded clear even, amid the crashing thunder. I gathered myself together for a supreme effort. Malpas saw me draw away, and howled in impotent fury,

•l’,M ’J 4*-J •

Blood curdling were the corse* he heaped upon the sluggard ear. The driving rain fitted my eyes with watery film, through._whj<;h all looked - and uis-eWain.' I nidndged to avoid'* waggon full of chalk standing in the road. But as I passed a deafening crash split the heavens. 1 heard the terrified horse snort; then came the sound of collision and a dull thud.

1 dismounted, mechanically, and looked back. The driver was trying io extricate his horse from the debris of waggon and motor-car. Chalk strewn thickly round testified to the violence of the impact; and five or six yards ahead a dark mass lay in the road.

1 turned and walked back some |>ac«R tn get a better view of this motion les • object.

One <yUnce sufficed to show that the radF luul Iren won by me.—From **Short Stories.”