CHAPTER XXXI.
Lessingham stood for a moment by the side of the car from which he had just descended, glanced at the huge tires and the tins of petrol lashed on behind.
"Nothing more you want, chauffeur ?" he asked.
"Nothing, sir," was the almost inaudible reply.
"You have the route map ?" "Yes, sir, and enough petrol for three hundred miles." Lessingham turned away, pushed open the gate, and walked up the drive of Mainsail Haul.

Decidedly it was the moment of his life.

He was hard-pressed, as he knew, by others besides Griffiths.

A few hours now was all the start he could reasonably expect.

He was face to face with a very real and serious danger, which he could no longer ignore, and from which escape was all the time becoming more difficult.