After that there was no hurry. She pleaded a life and death engagement, but the majesty of the law was ruffled, and saw to it that all things were done with dignity and in order. Kate was charged with driving to the danger of the public. The road was entirely deserted just there, and there was no public, but she admitted the crime, gave name and number, and humbly asked to go. But not a bit of it. The Law wanted to see her driving license, which of course she had not got, and then out came note-books and pencils. The criminal lost her temper, and so the Law was deliberately slow.... Kate reached Carnforth station just three minutes after the express had left, and was half-minded there and then to give up the chase. Carter would sail in the _Secondee_ at the appointed hour, and when he got to Las Palmas and heard the news he would return to her by the next boat. She was sure enough of that. But no, she could not let him go. It might be (terrific thing) unmaidenly of her to thrust herself and her news in his way, but she could not help it. Besides, a fear cramped her when she thought of Cascaes. She had heard to her horror of the knife that Cascaes had wielded so undeftly in the dark along the Telde road, although indeed Carter had made no mention of it, and she dreaded what might happen should the two men come together a second time. She looked at the time-table; there was no train that would help her. If she wanted to get to Liverpool before the _Secondee_ sailed, it must be by car. So once more she sat herself in the seat of government.... The road held through Lancaster to Preston, and outside towns and villages she crashed along often at a fifty-mile gait in her fear at being too late. And then came the black cotton towns of Lancashire with their slatternly women and shrill-voiced children scrambling over the streets. She had to slow to a crawl through these, and even then the tires skated dangerously over the greasy streets. But speed triumphed over time and distance in the end. She swung at a rattling gait into a Liverpool suburb, and for the third time had her number taken by an indignant policeman, and thereafter slowed to a dignified crawl. She glanced at her watch. With care now, and if no mishap blocked her progress, she would be on the landing stage before the mail-boat threw off her ropes. Luck and good nerve aided her bravely now. She wormed her way rapidly through the increasing traffic of the Liverpool streets, and came to the landing stage entrance. She patted her car and gave it a word of gratitude. A cabman took charge, and with him also she left motor veils, coat and gloves, and walked down onto the landing stage fully conscious of neat hair, a perfect frock, and the Paris hat. Carter was standing gloomily at the bookstall, with a chin that looked more dogged and hair that was redder than ever. "Ah," she said lightly, "fancy meeting you here. Weren't you going by last week's boat?"