"Oh, all right, Ferd, old chap!" said Bill, and signalled his man to go on. We sat as if petrified. Bill was Ida's cousin! The way of the transgressor is hard; though why one should have to lose a reputation built up by years of careful living just for one silly indiscretion is what gets me. I put a hand on Ferd's arm. "I'm gone!" I wailed. "It will be all over town to-morrow. Bill's the worst old gossip. Oh, Ferd!" "He didn't see you," Ferd snapped. "For goodness' sake, Fan, shut up! This is my mess. There isn't any limit to the things he can say about me." We bumped on a little farther. I was crying, I'll admit; my head ached and my spine was jarred numb. "You'll have to do one thing," he said at last. "You'll have to tell Ida it was you. Heaven knows what she'll think." "I'll die first!" I snapped. Well, we got into town finally and it was three-thirty by the first clock we saw. Ferd got out and looked at the car, and then climbed in again. "Better get along a few blocks and then leave it," he said. "It looks something fierce, and so do we." And at that instant, before I could even start the engine, we were arrested for stealing the miserable thing! "There is some mistake," Ferd said loftily, but looking green in the electric light. "This is Mrs. Day Illington and this is her own machine." "Are you Mr. Illington?" "Yes!" said Ferd. The man looked very strange, as well he might, considering--well, considering the facts that came out later. "I'll have to trouble you to come with me," he said, politely enough. "It will be only a short delay and we'll get this straightened out. But a car answering this description was stolen out the road a few miles and headed toward town, and there's a reward offered." He stood on the step and I drove to the station house. I had it fixed in my own mind to go home and write a letter to Day confessing all, and then pack a few things and hide my wretched self for the rest of my life. I even planned what to take; my jewelry and my checkbook, and only a dinner dress or two; and I wrote the letter to Day--in my mind--and one to Ida, telling her it was only a lark, but it had gone wrong without any fault of mine. Then we drew up at the station. Ferd got out and went in, and the officer turned on the pavement to help me out. But it was my chance and I took it; I just threw on the gas full and shot ahead down the street. He yelled after me and then began shooting. One bullet must have struck the good rear tire, for it collapsed and almost turned the car round. But I was desperate. I never looked back. I just drove for all I was worth down the street to its end, and after that down other streets, and still others. All the time I was saying I would rather die, and going round corners on two wheels, or one wheel and a rim.