"There he is." They walked a few steps up the hill and found Richard Lane waiting for them in his car.

The long, grey racer looked almost like some submarine monster, with its flaring head-lights and torpedo-shaped body which scarcely cleared the ground.
"Ready for orders, sir," the young man announced, touching his cap.
"Is there room for three of us, in case of an emergency ?" Hunterleys asked.
"The third man has to sit on the floor," Richard pointed out, "but it isn't so comfortable as it looks." Hunterleys clambered in and took the vacant place.

David Briston lingered by a little wistfully.
"I feel rather a skunk," he grumbled.

"I don't see why I shouldn't come along." Hunterleys shook his head.
"There isn't the slightest need for it," he declared firmly.

"You go back and look after Felicia.