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132 so much as a backward glance, he threw in his speed and whirled off down the slope.

"But look," cried the chauffeur, "he is going on!"

The others were silent from sheer amazement. No recriminations, no abuse, no procés-verbal? It was unheard of, astounding. They looked at me for an explanation of such conduct.

"Monsieur," said I, "doubtless feels himself to be in the wrong. As a matter of fact, there was plenty of room. Perhaps he lost his head and is angry and ashamed and feels that the less said the better."

The tide of sympathy quickly turned. "That must be the case," said the chauffeur. "As a matter of fact there is room for three cars to pass abreast on this road. A man who cannot keep his head ought not to drive. It is to imperil his own life and that of others." I agreed with him, wondering what he would say when he saw my tracks, farther up the slope. But there was nothing more to discuss, so I bowed and started ahead. I knew that they would stop to look at the twisted remains of Chu-Chu's mudguards, and I could imagine their fresh mystification at his taking the matter so indifferently when they noted the evidence of our relative tracks. I doubted that I had left him the room for a man on a bicycle.

On I went, slowly and thinking hard. Chu-Chu had escaped by a miracle, aided by his own extraordinary coolness, skill and lightning thought. I actually admired the man. But it was plain enough