Then he slammed the door, mounted again to his place, and sent the car at top speed in the direction of London.

They were on the outskirts of Hampstead when he saw a sign over a tobacconist's shop, and stopped the car a little way beyond, at the darkest part of the road.

He gave a glance into the interior.

The girl had slid from the seat to the floor and lay motionless.
He hurried back to the tobacconist's where the telephone sign had been.
At the back of his fuddled brain lingered an idea that there was somebody who would be hurt.

That cruel looking devil who was cross-examining him when he fell into a fit--Tarling.