They heard the door pushed open, the howl of wind down the passage,
and the beating of rain upon the stone flags. Then it was softly
closed again. The landlord staggered into the room, followed by a
young man.

"This 'ere is Mr. Martin's chaffer," he announced. "You can tell
him what you want yerself."

Gerald turned almost eagerly towards the newcomer.

"I want to go to the other side of Holt," he said, "and get my
friend--get this gentleman away from here--get him home, if
possible. Can you take me?"

The chauffeur looked doubtful.

"I'm afraid of the roads, sir," he replied. "There's talk about
many bridges down, and trees, and there's floods out everywhere.
There's half a foot of water, even, across the village street now.
I'm afraid we shouldn't get very far."

"Look here," Gerald begged eagerly, "let's make a shot at it. I'll
pay you double the hire of the car, and I'll be responsible for any
damage. I want to get out of this beastly place. Let's get
somewhere, at any rate, towards a civilised country. I'll see you
don't lose anything. I'll give you a five pound note for yourself
if we get as far as Holt."

"I'm on," the young man agreed shortly. "It's an open car, you know."