"Pretend to be arguing about the route," I said quickly.
Rosalie caught my drift and began to gesticulate; I did the same. Chu-Chu was coming up slowly behind.
"Turn round and start back," said I, and jerked my head back into the cab. Rosalie stuck out a gauntleted arm, then hauled to the side of the road. Chu-Chu swept past in a cloud of dust. He turned a corner and disappeared.
"What now?" asked Rosalie, turning round.
"Wait a minute," I answered; "he suspects. We've got to change places."
I slipped off the soutane and round black hat and stepped out into the road in my knickers. Rosalie stared at me with her lips like a big red "O."
"Quick, madame," said I; "you must let me drive."
"But why?" she gasped.
"Don't ask questions; I am a chief of the secret service. Do you know who that chauffeur is? You said his name not long ago."
"Not Chu-Chu?"
"Perfectly. Jump inside and let me run the car. Don't be afraid. I shall not hurt your motor."
Rosalie obeyed without a word. I stepped up and took the wheel, and we were off.
Just as I had feared, once given a little start on a fairly good road, Chu-Chu was hard to catch. The dust hanging in the air showed that he was not far ahead, and I might have overhauled him if it hadn't been for our carburetter, which kept on flooding when I cut off the gas on curves and down grades,
