THE WHEELS OF CHANCE
proceeded with the calm deliberation of a business man to develop a proposal of taking train forthwith to Winchester. "They must be going to Winchester," he explained. It was inevitable. To-morrow Sunday, Winchester a cathedral town, road going nowhere else of the slightest importance.
"But Mr. Dangle?"
"He will simply go on until he has to pass something, and then he will break his neck. I have seen Dangle drive before. It's scarcely likely a dog-cart, especially a hired dog-cart, will overtake bicycles in the cool of the evening. Rely upon me, Mrs. Milton———"
"I am in your hands," she said with pathetic littleness, looking up at him, and for the moment he forgot the exasperation of the day.
Phipps during this conversation had stood in a depressed attitude, leaning on his stick, feeling his collar, and looking from one speaker to the other. The idea of leaving Dangle behind seemed to him an excellent one. "We might leave a message at the place where he got the dog-cart," he suggested when he saw their eyes meeting. There was a cheerful alacrity about all three at the proposal.
But they never got beyond Botley. For even as their train ran into the station, a mighty rumbling was heard, there was a shouting overhead, the guard stood astonished on the platform, and Phipps, thrusting his head out of the window, cried, "There he goes!" and sprang out of the carriage. Mrs. Milton, following in alarm, just saw it. From Widgery it was hidden. Botley station lies in a cutting, over-
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