"Lucky it's a limousine," said the tall traveller. "Better hop in.
We'll be getting it hard in a second or two."
"I can't very well hop in while he's backing and twisting like that,
can I?" she laughed. He was acutely aware of a strained, nervous note
in her voice, as of one who is confronted by an undertaking calling
for considerable fortitude.
"Are you quite sure of this man?" he asked.
"Absolutely," she replied, after a pause.
"You know him, eh?"
"By reputation," she said briefly, and without a trace of laughter.
"Well, that comforts me to some extent," he said, but dubiously.
She was silent for a moment and then turned to him impulsively.
"You must let me take you on to the Tavern in the car," she said.
"Turn about is fair play. I cannot allow you to--"
"Never mind about me," he broke in cheerily. He had been wondering if
she would make the offer, and he felt better now that she had done so.
"I'm accustomed to roughing it. I don't mind a soaking. I've had
hundreds of 'em."
"Just the same, you shall not have one to-night," she announced
firmly. The car stopped beside them. "Get in behind. I shall sit with
the driver."
If any one had told him that this rattling, dilapidated automobile,--
ten years old, at the very least, he would have sworn,--was capable of
covering the mile in less than two minutes, he would have laughed in
his face.
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