Two fiery eyes were stealing along the lonely road.
The throb of an engine was plainly audible.

He staggered up, swaying a little on his feet, and holding out his hands.

The motor car came to a standstill before him, and the man who was driving it sprang to the ground.

Words passed between them rapidly,--questions and answers,--the questions of an affectionate servant, and the answers of a man fighting a grim battle for consciousness.

But these two spoke in a language of their own, a language which no one who passed along that road was likely to understand.
With a groan of relief the man who had been picked up sank back amongst the cushioned seats, carefully almost tenderly, aided by the chauffeur.
Eagerly he thrust his hand into one of the leather pockets and drew out a flask of brandy.