They had been following the edge of the road, she along a path worn in the turf, he on the edge of the road itself and nearer to the tracks of the motors. As she faced him, she was slightly above him, her face level with his. Suddenly she cried out and clutched at him. As they had stopped, she had heard the sound of a motor approaching them rapidly from behind. Except that this car seemed speeding faster than the others, she had paid no attention and had not turned. Instantaneously, as she had cried and pulled upon him, she had realized that this car was not passing; it was directly behind and almost upon him. She felt him spring to the side as quickly as he could; but her cry and pull upon him were almost too late; as he leaped, the car struck. The blow was glancing, not direct, and he was off his feet and in motion when the wheel struck; but the car hurled him aside and rolled him over and over. As she rushed to Eaton, the two men in the rear seat of the car turned their heads and looked back. "Are you all right?" one called to Eaton; but without checking its speed or swerving, the car dashed on and disappeared down the roadway. She bent over Eaton and took hold of him. He struggled to his feet and, dazed, tottered so that she supported him. As she realized that he was not greatly hurt, she stared with horror at the turn in the road where the car had disappeared. "Why, he tried to run you down! He meant to! He tried to hurt you!" she cried. "No," Eaton denied. "Oh, no; I don't think so." "But they went on without stopping; they didn't wait an instant. He didn't care; he meant to do it!" "No!" Eaton unsteadily denied again. "It must have been--an accident. He was--frightened when he saw what he had done." "It wasn't at all like an accident!" she persisted. "It couldn't have been an accident there and coming up from behind the way he did! No; he meant to do it! Did you see who was in the car--who was driving?" He turned to her quickly. "Who?" he demanded. "One of the people who was on the train! That man--the morning we--the morning Father was hurt--do you remember, when you came into the dining car for breakfast and the conductor wanted to seat you opposite a young man who had just spilled coffee? You sat down at our table instead. Don't you remember--a little man, nervous, but very strong; a man almost like an ape?" He shuddered and then controlled himself. "Nothing!" he answered her clasp of concern on his arm. "Quite steady again; thanks. Just dizzy; I guess I was jarred more than I knew. Yes, I remember a fellow the conductor tried to seat me opposite." "This was the same man!" Eaton shook his head. "That could hardly be; I think you must be mistaken." "I am not mistaken; it was that man!" "Still, I think you must be," he again denied.