Jonah and Co. Read Online Free Page A

upon the permanent way, Pong emerged from the city without a stain upon his character.
    The Vendôme road looked promising and proved excellent. Very soon we were flying. For all that, Jonah overtook us as we were nearing Bonneval…
    It was some thirty minutes later, as we were leaving Châteaudun, that a sour-faced gendarme with a blue nose motioned to us to stop. Standing upon the near pavement, the fellow was at once conversing with a postman and looking malevolently in our direction. I think we all scented mischief.
    “What can he want?” growled Berry, as he brought the car to a standstill.
    “He’s probably being officious,” said I, getting our papers ready. “We’re strangers, and he’s in a bad humour. Consequently, he’s going to scrutinise our triptyque , passports, passes and certificates, to see if he can accuse us of anything. Happily they’re all in order, so he’ll be disappointed. When he’s thoroughly satisfied that he can bring no charge against us, he’ll order us to proceed.”
    “He’s taking his time about it,” observed my brother-in-law.
    I looked up from the documents.
    My gentleman was still talking to the postman, while his pig’s eyes were still surveying the car. From his companion’s demeanour, he seemed to be whetting his wit at our expense.
    “This is intolerable,” said I. “Ask him what he wants, lady.”
    Adèle leaned forward and put her head out of the window.
    “I think you wished us to stop, Monsieur ?”
    The gendarme waved his hand.
    “Wait,” he said insolently.
    The postman sniggered shamefacedly.
    Adèle sank back in her seat, her cheeks flaming.
    In a voice trembling with passion I conjured Berry to proceed.
    The moment the car moved, the official sprang forward, gesticulating furiously.
    As we passed him, I put out my head.
    “Now it’s our turn,” I said warmly, “to make the postman laugh.”
    From the hoarse yells which followed us, it was clear that we had left the fellow beside himself with rage. Looking back through the little window, I could see him dancing. Suddenly he stopped, peered after us, and then swung about and ran ridiculously up the street.
    “Blast him, he’s going to telephone!” said I. “Where’s the map?”
    Together Adèle and I pored over the sections.
    “If,” said Berry, “you’re going to direct me to turn off, for Heaven’s sake be quick about it. At the present moment I’m just blinding along into the blue and, for all I know, an oversized hornets’ nest. Of course they mayn’t sting when there’s an ‘r’ in the month, but then they mightn’t know that. Or am I thinking of oysters?”
    “They’ll stop us at Vendôme,” said I. “Not before. Right oh! We must turn to the right at Cloyes and make for St Calais. We can get round to Tours that way. It’ll take us about twenty miles out of our way, but—”
    “Yes, and when we don’t show up at Vendôme, they’ll wire to Calais. Seriously, as Shakespeare says, I’m all of a doo-dah.”
    That we should be stopped at St Calais was not likely, and I said as much. What did worry me, because it was far more probable, was that when they drew blank at Vendôme, the authorities would telephone to Tours. Any apprehension, however, regarding our reception at that city was soon mercifully, unmercifully, and somewhat paradoxically overshadowed by a more instant anxiety lest we should never arrive there at all. From the moment we left the main road, the obstacles in the shape of uncharted roads and villages, pavements, cattle, goats, a horse fair, and finally a series of appalling gradients, opposed our passage. All things considered, my brother-in-law drove admirably. But it was a bad business, and, while my wife and Berry were very staunch, I think we all regretted that I had been so high with Blue Nose.
    Night had fallen ere we slunk into Tours.
    Fully expecting to find that the others had well-nigh given us up, we were astounded to learn at the hotel that