I was back of the crowd when the circus started outside the Eastbourne depot.

As I ante'd up your ticket and collected your deposit of a sovereign, I saw what took place, and sized up the result pretty accurately.

The kidnaping proposition had failed, but the guy in the silk hat had got clear away in a bully good car--how good I know now.

It seemed to me that, next to rescuing that charming young lady, it was important something should be known about the thug who wanted to carry her off, and, when my eyes lit on a workmanlike motor bicycle with a side-car rig standing close to the curb, and well clear of the arena, said I to myself: 'George T.Handyside, this is where you take a flier, and maybe Illinois will score one.' The man who owned the outfit was watching the commotion when I dug him in the ribs.

'Take me after that car,' I said, 'and I'll pay you a shilling a mile with five pounds on account if it's only a 100 yards.' I pressed a note into his hand--and, say, you Britishers wake up all right when you see real money! We were doing thirty per in less than ten seconds.