That's a rifle bullet, sure," he muttered.

The car was drawn up by the side of the road, a few yards past the section
house. A little way farther up was the tool shed, and beyond, the tower
house. There was no one in sight at either of these places. On the other
side of the road were clumps of bushes, any one of which would prove
sufficient for a man in hiding.

"Get on the wheel as quick as you can," Quest directed. "Here, I'll give
you a hand."

He stooped down to unfasten the straps which held the spare wheel. It was
one of his rare lapses, realised a moment too late. Almost in his ears
came the hoarse cry:

"Hands up, guvnor! Hands up this second or I'll blow you to hell!"

Quest glanced over his shoulder and looked into the face of Red Gallagher,
raised a little above the level of the road. He had evidently been hiding
at the foot of the perpendicular bank which divided the road from the
track level. A very ugly little revolver was pointed directly at Quest's
heart.

"My mate's got you covered on the other side of the road, too. Hands up,
both of you, or we'll make a quick job of it."

Quest shrugged his shoulders, threw his revolver into the road and obeyed.
As he did so, the other man stole out from behind a bush and sprang for
the chauffeur, who under cover of the car was stealing off. There was a
brief struggle, then the dull thud of the railway man's rifle falling on
the former's head. The chauffeur rolled over and lay in the road.

"Pitch him off in the bushes," Red Gallagher ordered. "You don't want any
one who comes by to see. Now lend me a hand with this chap."

"What do you propose to do with me?" Quest asked.

"You'll know soon enough," Red Gallagher answered. "A matter of five
minutes' talk, to start with. You see that hand-car house?"

"Perfectly well," Quest assented. "My eyesight is quite normal."

"Get there, then. I'm a yard behind you and my revolver's pointing for the
middle of your back."

Quest looked at it anxiously.

"You have the air, my red friend," he remarked, "of being unaccustomed to
those delicate weapons. Do keep your fingers off the trigger. I will walk
to the hand-car house and talk to you, with pleasure."

He sprang lightly down from the road, crossed the few intervening yards
and stepped into the hand-car house.

Gallagher and his mate followed close behind. Quest paused on the
threshold.

"It's a filthy dirty hole," he remarked. "Can't we have our little chat