By twilight, Mr. Hoopdriver was a very different man.
His cheeks were flushed, his eyes were bright, and his mind was racing. The nervous, overly polite shop assistant we first met days ago seemed to have disappeared.
Ever since he had lost Jessie and Bechamel’s trail in Chichester, he had been tormented by frightening thoughts about what might be happening to the young woman.
Everything around him seemed to feed his imagination. The moon was rising over the fading red glow of sunset. Dark shadows stretched across the road, while orange lights shone from the windows of the town.
Somewhere nearby, a beautiful young woman was in trouble.
And somewhere nearby was the man in brown who had insulted him.
For once, Hoopdriver forgot his social position. He forgot that he was only a shop assistant and that people like him were supposed to know their place.
He felt like a knight in an adventure story.
He was angry.
He was excited.
And he was determined to find Jessie.
The whole strange drama seemed to be happening around him, yet somehow he had lost his place in it. He was far too serious now to treat the situation as a game.
Even when he stopped at a small café for a quick meal, he did not behave like someone pretending to be a hero.
He truly believed he had a mission.
At about that time, Bechamel was walking from the Vicuna Hotel toward the seafront.
Hoopdriver happened to come around the corner from the Temperance Hotel.
The moment he saw Bechamel, his heart jumped.
Then everything suddenly became clear.
They were staying at the Vicuna.
Jessie must still be there.
And now she was alone.
This was the opportunity he had been waiting for.
But Hoopdriver did not want to leave anything to chance.
He went back around the corner and sat down on a bench. He watched Bechamel disappear into the darkness along the seafront.
Only then did he stand up and walk toward the hotel.
“A lady cyclist in grey,” he told the waiter.
The waiter led him toward the dining room.
But as the door began to open, Hoopdriver suddenly lost his courage.
For one terrible moment, he almost turned around and ran.
His heart was pounding.
Then Jessie turned and saw him.
She stared at him in shock.
There was fear in her eyes.
But there was also something that looked almost like hope.
“Can I have a few words with you?” Hoopdriver asked breathlessly. “Alone?”
Jessie hesitated.
Then she turned to the waiter.
“Please leave us.”
The waiter withdrew and closed the door.
Hoopdriver watched it shut.
He had imagined himself walking confidently into the room, folding his arms, and saying:
“You are in trouble. I am your friend. Trust me.”
Instead, he stood there panting.
Then the words came out all at once.
“Look here. I don’t know exactly what’s going on, but I think something is wrong.”
He swallowed.
“I’m sorry if I’m interfering and I’ve misunderstood everything. But if you’re in trouble, I’ll do anything I can to help you.”
Jessie stared at him.
Hoopdriver continued nervously.
“That’s what I’m trying to say. If you need help, tell me. I’ll do anything.”
Her expression changed.
“You?”
“Yes,” said Hoopdriver.
She studied him for a moment.
Then she said quietly:
“You are a gentleman.”
“Yes,” Hoopdriver replied, taking the compliment very seriously.
“Can I trust you?”
She didn’t even wait for his answer.
“I have to leave this hotel immediately.”
She stepped closer and took his arm.
“Come here.”
She led him to the window.
“Look. You can just see the gate. It’s still open.”
Hoopdriver looked down.
“Our bicycles are in the yard.”
She pointed toward the entrance.
“Go down there and get them out. I’ll come down after you.”
She looked directly at him.
“Can you do it?”
“Get your bicycle out onto the road?”
“Both bicycles. Mine won’t be enough. We have to leave together.”
“Which way should I go?”
“Go through the front entrance and walk around. I’ll follow you in a minute.”
“Right!”
Hoopdriver hurried away.
He felt capable of anything now.
If Jessie had told him to attack Bechamel, he might actually have tried.
His mind was spinning.
He left the hotel and walked around toward the large coach yard. It was already dark there.
He looked around.
There were no bicycles in sight.
Then a short man stepped out of the darkness. He wore a short, shiny black jacket.
Hoopdriver froze.
The man recognized his clothes and touched his cap.
“I’ve been cleaning your machines, sir.”
Hoopdriver immediately understood that this man was the ostler.
He forced himself to remain calm.
“That’s right.”
Then he quickly added:
“Where’s mine? I want to check the chain.”
The ostler led him into an open shed and began searching for a lantern.
Hoopdriver saw his chance.
He moved Jessie’s bicycle toward the door.
Then he grabbed Bechamel’s bicycle and wheeled it outside.
The gate was still open.
Beyond it lay the pale road and a group of trees silhouetted against the evening sky.
Hoopdriver bent over one of the bicycles and pretended to inspect the chain.
His hands were trembling.
How was he going to get the ostler out of the way?
Then he noticed something moving beyond the gate.
Jessie was probably waiting for him.
He needed to act quickly.
“I say,” Hoopdriver called.
“Yes?”
“Could you get me a screwdriver?”
The ostler simply walked across the shed, opened a box, and returned with one.
Hoopdriver took it.
“Thanks.”
Then he looked at it carefully.
“This is much too big.”
The ostler lit the lantern and placed it beside him.
“Want a smaller one?”
“Yes.”
The ostler looked at the screwdriver.
“I don’t think I’ve got one smaller than that.”
Hoopdriver suddenly pulled out his handkerchief.
He sneezed loudly.
“Achoo!”
The ostler stared at him.
Hoopdriver hid his face in the handkerchief.
“As small as you’ve got.”
“That’s the smallest one I have.”
“Won’t do,” Hoopdriver muttered.
The ostler thought for a moment.
“I’ll see what they’ve got in the house, if you like.”
“Yes,” said Hoopdriver quickly. “Please do.”
The ostler’s heavy boots clattered away down the yard.
Hoopdriver waited.
Then he stood.
He moved silently toward Jessie’s bicycle.
His hands closed around the handlebars.
He was ready to run.
For a moment, a warm yellow light spilled from the kitchen door and stretched across the yard.
Then the door closed.
Hoopdriver pushed both bicycles toward the gate.
Suddenly, a dark figure came hurrying toward him.
“Give me this,” Jessie whispered. “And bring yours.”
Hoopdriver handed her one bicycle.
Their hands touched briefly in the darkness.
He ran back, grabbed Bechamel’s bicycle, and followed her.
At that exact moment, the kitchen door opened again.
Yellow light flooded across the yard.
It was too late.
They had to escape.
The ostler saw them.
“Hey!”
Hoopdriver pushed harder.
“That’s not allowed!”
They reached the road.
Jessie was already riding ahead.
Hoopdriver jumped onto the bicycle and managed to get moving without falling.
Behind them came more shouting.
“Stop them!”
For a few seconds, Hoopdriver imagined policemen appearing from every shadow.
But the road curved away from the hotel.
Soon the shouting disappeared behind the hedges.
They were riding side by side in the darkness.
They had escaped Bognor.
Jessie was crying, but this time her tears were mixed with excitement and relief.
She looked at Hoopdriver.
“Brave,” she said.
Then she smiled through her tears.
“Very brave.”
Hoopdriver glanced back at the road behind them.
For the first time, he no longer felt like a thief being chased.
He felt like the hero of an adventure.
And together they rode farther into the night.