Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1916-04-13
A Flash Of Fire spat Out at Him.

|H T
A Flash Of Fire spat Out at Him.
or passing checked speed until It's
pace was even with his own.
Struck by the strangeness of this
maneuver, he looked quickly round, to
recognize the moOnlike mask of De
Morbihan grinnng sardonically at him
over the steering wheel of the black
car.
A second hasty glance discovered
four men in the back With no time
to identify them, Lanyard questioned
their origin as little as their malign
intent - Belleville DULLES. beyond
doubt, drafted from Popinot's bat
talions, with orders to bring in the
Lone Wolf, dead or alive.
He had instant proof that his appre-
tensions were uneXaggerated Of a
sudden De Morbihan cut out his en-
gine's muller and turned loose his
electric horn. Between the deep
chested detonations of the exhaust and
the mad, blatant yowling of the warn
ing a hideous clamor echoed and re-
echoed in that quiet street-a racket
in which the report of a revolver-shot
was drowned out and went unnoticed.
Lanyard himself might have been I'M
aware of it had he not caught, out of
the corner of his eye, a flash of fire
that spat out at him like flaming ser
pent's tongue, and heard the crash of
the window behind him falling inward,
shattered.
That the shot had no immediate sue
cessor was due almost wholly to Ian
yards instant and instructive action
Even before the clash of broken
glass registered on his consciousness,
he threw in the high speed and shot
away like a frightened greyhound
So sudden was this move that it
caught De Morbihan himself unpre-
pared. In an instant Lanyard had ten
yards lead. In another he was spin
ming on two wheels round an acute
corner into the Rue Jean Goujon; and
in a third, as he shot through that
short block to the Avenue d'Antin, had
increased his lead to fifteen yards. But
he could never hope to better that
rather the contrary. The pursuer was
the more powerful car, and captained,
to boot, by one reputed to be the most
daring and skillful motorist In France.
AS he swung from the Avenue dan
tin into the Rond Point des Champs
Elysees, the nose of the pursuing car
inched up, snoring, on his right, eff
fectually preventing any attempt to
strike eff toward the east, to the boule-
wards and the center of the city's night
life. He had no choice but to fly west
ward.
He cut an arc round the sexpartits
park of the Rond Point that lost 40
inch OF advantage, and Strengthened.
out up the Avenues des Champs-Ely
sees for the Place de PEtoile, shooting
madly in and out through the tide OF
more leisurely traffic. And ever the
motor Of the touring car purred con-
tentedly just at his elbow.
If there were police about, Lanyard
saw nothing of them-not that he
would have dreamed of stopping or
even Of checking speed for anything
less than an immovable barrier.
But as the minutes sped it became
apparent that there was to be no re-
newed attempt upon his life for the
time being. The pursuers could afford
to wait. And 1t came then to Lanyard
that he drove no more alone. Death
rode with him, his passenger.
Only when in full course for the
Porte Dauphine did he appreciate De
Morbihan's design. He was to be
rushed out into the midnight solitudes
of the Bots de Boulogne and there run
down and slain out of hand.
Now and again glances over his
shoulder showed him no change In the
gap between his own and the car Of
the assassins. But his motor ran
sweet and true-humoring it, coaxing
it, he contriyed a little longer to hold
his own.
Approaching the Porte Dauphine, he
became aware of two sergents de vile
standing in the middle Of the way and
wildly waving their arms. He held on
toward them relentlessly-it was their
lives or his-and they leaped aside
barely in time to save themselves.
And as he slipped into the park like
hunted shadow he fancied that he
heard the sound of a pistol shot
whether directed at himself by the
Apaches, or fired by the police to lend
emphasis to their Indignation, he
couldn't say.
Bending low over the wheel, search
ing with anxious eyes the Swallowed
reaches of that winding drive. he
steered for time with one hand. while
with the other he tore open his ulster
and brought his pistol into readiness.
Topping the brow Of the incline. he
heard above the whine of his motor
the sharp clatter of a horses boots
and surmised that at last the police
had given chase.
(Continued.)