or, by the Lord--"

The young man was as brave as his neighbours, but the hands went up all
the same.

"Get down!" said his assailant, curtly.

The young man stepped forth into the road, followed closely by the
covering lantern and pistol. Once he made as if he would drop his hands,
but a short, stern word jerked them up again.

"I say, look here, this is rather out o' date, ain't it?" said the
traveller. "I expect you're joking--what?"

"Your watch," said the man behind the Mauser pistol.

"You can't really mean it!"

"Your watch, I say!"

"Well, take it, if you must. It's only plated, anyhow. You're two
centuries out in time, or a few thousand miles longitude. The bush is
your mark--or America. You don't seem in the picture on a Sussex road."

"Purse," said the man. There was something very compelling in his voice
and methods. The purse was handed over.

"Any rings?"

"Don't wear 'em."

"Stand there! Don't move!"

The highwayman passed his victim and threw open the bonnet of the
Wolseley. His hand, with a pair of steel pliers, was thrust deep into
the works. There was the snap of a parting wire.

"Hang it all, don't crock my car!" cried the traveller.

He turned, but quick as a flash the pistol was at his head once more. And
yet even in that flash, whilst the robber whisked round from the broken
circuit, something had caught the young man's eye which made him gasp and
start. He opened his mouth as if about to shout some words. Then with
an evident effort he restrained himself.

"Get in," said the highwayman.

The traveller climbed back to his seat.

"What is your name?"

"Ronald Barker. What's yours?"

The masked man ignored the impertinence.

"Where do you live?" he asked.

"My cards are in my purse. Take one."

The highwayman sprang into his car, the engine of which had hissed and
whispered in gentle accompaniment to the interview. With a clash he
threw back his side-brake, flung in his gears, twirled the wheel hard
round, and cleared the motionless Wolseley. A minute later he was
gliding swiftly, with all his lights' gleaming, some half-mile southward
on the road, while Mr. Ronald Barker, a side-lamp in his hand, was
rummaging furiously among the odds and ends of his repair-box for a
strand of wire which would connect up his electricity and set him on his
way once more.

When he had placed a safe distance between himself and his victim, the
adventurer eased up, too