"Don't be alarmed, I can attend to this gentleman single-handed."
And this he proceeded to demonstrate with admirable ease, even though called upon to do so far sooner than he had thought to be—thanks to Marrophat's harebrained precipitancy. For Trine's first lieutenant now took his life in his hands and in one bound bridged the distance between the flying cars and landed on the taxi's running-board.
"Stop!" he screamed madly. "Stop, I say! You don't know what you're doing! Let me tell you"
He got that far but no farther. In the same breath Alan had flung wide the door and was at the fellow's throat. There was a struggle of negligible duration. Marrophat was in no way his antagonist's match; within three seconds he threw out both hands, clutched hopelessly at the framework of the cab, and fell heavily to the street.
Simultaneously the touring-car dropped back and stopped.
The taxi sped on and Alan looked back in time to catch a glimpse of a number of loafers lifting Marrophat to his feet.
"Not seriously injured, I fancy," he told the girl. "Worse luck!" he added gloomily.
But it seemed that he was to have greater cause than this to complain of his luck before that ride was ended. Three blocks farther on a tire blew out
