"Here! get out of the way, madmazelly.
Business before pleasure.

And, besides, you're like to get bowled over in the rush.

Here, chauffeur!"-- this to the driver of a big, black motor-car which swept round the angle of the bridge at that moment, and made as though to scud down the Embankment into the thick of the chase--"pull that thing up sharp! Stop where you are! Dead still.

At once, at once, do you hear?
We don't want you getting in the way.

Now, then"-- nodding his head in the direction of the running man--"come on you bounder; I'm ready for you!" And, as if he really heard that invitation, and really was eager to accept it, the red-headed man did "come on" with a vengeance.