"Hang it all, man, don't blow your horn like that!" roared Windomshire at last, harassed and full of dread. Joe, in his abstraction, was sounding his siren in a most insulting manner. At last Windomshire's wheels struck a surface that seemed hard and resisting. He gave a shout of joy. "Here we are! It's macadam!" "Cobberly Road," cried Joe. "Back off to the right and let me run in ahead. I'm--I'm in a devil of a hurry." "By Gad, sir, so am I. Hi, hold back there! Look out where you're going, confound you!" "Now for it," cried Joe to Eleanor. "We've got the lead; I'll bet a bun he can't catch us." He had deliberately driven across the other's bows, as it were, scraping the wheel, and was off over Cobberly Road like the wind. "Turn to your right at the next crossing," he shouted back to Windomshire. Then to himself hopefully: "If he does that, he'll miss Fenlock by three miles." They had covered two rash, terrifying miles before a word was spoken. Then he heard her voice in his ear--an anxious, troubled voice that could scarcely be heard above the rushing wind. "What will we do if the train is late, dear? He'll be--be sure to catch us." "She's never late. Besides, what if he does catch us? We don't have to go back, do we? You're of age. Brace up; be a man!" he called back encouragingly. "There are too many men as it is," she wailed, sinking back into the tonneau. "Here we are!" he shouted, as the car whizzed into a murky, dimly lighted street on the edge of Fenlock, the county seat. "There are the station lights just ahead." "Is the train in?" she cried, struggling to her feet eagerly. "I think not." He was slowing down. A moment later the throbbing car came to a stop beside the railway station platform. The lights blinked feebly through the mist; far off in the night arose the faint toot of a locomotive's whistle. "We're just in time," he cried. "She's coming. Quick!" He lifted her bodily over the side of the car, jerked two suitcases from beneath the curtains, and rushed frantically to the shelter of the platform sheds. "I'll leave you here, dear," he was saying rapidly. "Wait a second; there is your railroad ticket and your drawing-room ticket, too. I'll wake Derby when I get on board. I have to run the automobile down to Henry's garage first. Won't take ten seconds. Don't worry. The train won't be here for three or four minutes. Get on board and go to sleep. I'll be two cars ahead." "Oh, Joe, won't I see you again before we start?" she cried despairingly.