"She doesn't walk above three miles an hour with that basket: they're an hour and twenty minutes ahead." "You're smart, sonny," said the millionaire.
"Right away!" said Sir Tancred: and he tossed a five-franc piece to the woman.
Tinker set the car going, and began to try his hardest to get her best speed out of her.
The millionaire leaned forward, and said to Sir Tancred, "The scum are hardly up-to-date to use a carriage instead of a motor-car." "What I don't see is how they are going to get them across the frontier.

It looks--it looks as if the Italian police were in it," said Sir Tancred, frowning.
"Do you mean to tell me that the Italian police would connive at kidnapping ?" said the millionaire.
"No: but some rascal of a detective, who could pull a good many strings, might be in it.

At any rate if they get them across the frontier undrugged, the authorities are squared or humbugged.

What I'm afraid of is that they're making for that rabbit-warren, Genoa.

If they get them there, we may be a fortnight finding them." "I guess I'll squeal before that," said the millionaire; "yes, if I have to put up a million dollars." The car had reached a speed at which they could only talk in a shout, and it seemed no more than a few minutes before Tinker slowed down for Mentone, and stopped at a gendarme.