the Dey. His orders would be laughed to scorn, and mounted on their
swift Arabian steeds they would mock any effort to chase them.

So John is deeply puzzled, and knows not how to turn. If the Frenchman,
usually so bright and witty, cannot suggest something to help him out of
this dilemma, he will have to depend upon himself alone; but Monsieur
Constans shrugs his shoulders and professes to be all at sea.

Dimly John begins to suspect that this may not have been such an
accident after all.

He begins to suspect a plot.

The driver? what of him?

His actions had been strange and almost crazy from the start, and yet
John feels sure that if the case were thoroughly investigated it would
be found that he was not in the habit of thus running with his loads
over the rough part of his trip.

There is something unusual in this, and something that demands
investigation. The man's actions were suspicious, to say the least,
for just as soon as the break-down occurred he had vanished from view.

Evidently he was in league with some one.

John is furious to think that he left the scene of the disaster.

Why did he not let Sir Lionel go? The baronet seemed to be in earnest in
his offer, and under such circumstances--but what nonsense after all, to