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"Blow the horn for the dam' fool," said Mr. Blithers to the
chauffeur. A moment later the pedestrian leaped nimbly aside and the
car shot past, the dying wail of the siren dwindling away in the
whirr of the wheels. "Look where you're going!" shouted Mr. Blithers
from the tonneau, as if the walker had come near to running him down
instead of the other way around. "Whoa! Stop 'er, Jackson!" he called
to the driver. He had recognised the pedestrian.
The car came to a stop with grinding brakes, and at the same time the
pedestrian halted a hundred yards away.
"Back up," commanded Mr. Blithers in some haste, for the Prince
seemed to be on the point of deserting the highway for the wood that
lined it. "Morning, Prince!" he shouted, waving his hat vigorously.
"Want a lift?"
The car shot backward with almost the same speed that it had gone
forward, and the Prince exercised prudence when he stepped quickly up
the sloping bank at the roadside.
"Were you addressing me," he demanded curtly, as the car came to a
stop.
"Yes, your highness.


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