Cora turned to look back over the dusty road. Her face, usually alive to every mood, was strangely set--as if too anxious to venture a change of expression. Duncan from the front seat saw her look. "Oh, he is not coming," he said. "No need to worry now. We are across the State line." "I never was so frightened in my life," admitted Cora. "Not that I was afraid of going to court, but I was mortally afraid we would not be able to make the run in time. I should have known better, however, for Tom had qualified before to-day." "Tom knows just how fast this machine ought to go," added Duncan. "I don't mind Tom hearing it, either." The chauffeur smiled in acknowledgment to the compliment. It had been a hard run, and the Chelton lawyer had only turned back at the last mile post. "Wonder where that motor-cycle officer is now?" remarked Cora. "I mean Constable Hanna." "Oh, he's out having a good time on what he earned this morning," answered Duncan. "One hold-up in a day is plenty for Hanna." "I have scarcely had a chance to speak to you, Clip," Cora began, as her nervousness vanished. "I am so glad to see you." "Well, you have been looking whole vocabularies at me, Cora, in many and various languages," said Clip in her own inimitable way. "I have been wondering whether you had turned into a Sphynx or just Liberty." "But, Clip, I did have a fright. Suppose I should have had to give up the run, and go to that stuffy old courtroom!" "Well, I am glad you didn't," answered Clip sincerely. "I do think that a courtroom is about the meanest place I have ever visited--and I have been in a lot of queer places. And the girls," went on Clip. "Whatever will they say to you two runaways?" "What won't they say?" replied Duncan. "I am not to blame, of course. Miss Cora simply inveigled me into allowing her to ride with me--" "I saw Reed pass over the back country road a moment ago," interrupted Tom. "I might guess where he is going." "Where?" asked the trio in a breath. "To that junk shop on the turnpike," replied Tom. "He seems to think the shop is haunted with a valuable ghost. He goes out there almost daily." "You mean the antique shop?" asked Cora. "Oh, I know. He is after a table. I am sure it is he who has given the order--" She stopped--her finger on her lip. Tom seemed to know so much--what if he should know about the missing table? "Have you any idea what he is after?" asked Cora directly. "Well, I ought to know," replied Tom, "for he has made no secret of it. He has searched every attic from Breakwater to Moreland. I caught an old junk dealer in our barn the other morning, and while I watched him get down the road I saw Reed come along. Of course, he had hired the man to search where he himself could not go. He is after some sort of ancient rustic table, I believe."