"That car is all right," I bluffed from my saddle. "It's simply obeying instructions. It comes under the jurisdiction of my private Providence, you see. I ordered it that you should be here, and in distress, and grateful for my helping hand." How was that for straight nerve? "Well, then, let's have the helping hand and be done. I should be at home, by now. They will wonder--I just went for a--a little spin, and when I turned to go back, it started that funny noise. I--I'm afraid of it. It--might blow up, or--or something." She seemed in a strangely explanatory mood, that was, to say the least, suspicious. Either she had come out purposely to torment me, or she was afraid of what she knew was in my mind, and wanted to make me forget it. But my mettle was up for good. I had no notion of forgetting, or of letting her. "I'll do what I can, and willingly," I told her coolly. "It looks like a good car--an accommodating car. I hope you are prepared to pay the penalty--" "Penalty?" she interrupted, and opened her eyes at me innocently; a bit _too_ innocently, I may say. "Penalty; yes. The penalty of letting me find you outside of King's Highway, _alone_," I explained brazenly. She tried a lever hurriedly, and the car growled up at her so that she quit. Then she pulled herself together and faced me nonchalantly. "Oh-h. You mean about the black velvet mask? I'm afraid--I had forgotten that funny little--joke." With all she could do, her face and her tone were not convincing. I gathered courage as she lost it. "I see that I must demonstrate to you the fact that I am not altogether a joke," I said grimly, and got down from my horse. I don't, to this day, know what she imagined I was going to do. She sat very still; the kind of stillness a rabbit adopts when he hopes to escape the notice of an enemy. I could see that she hardly breathed, even. But when I reached her, I only got a wrench out of the tool-box and yanked open the hood to see what ailed the motor. I knew something of that make of car; in fact, I had owned one before I got the _Yellow Peril_, and I had a suspicion that there wasn't much wrong; a loosened nut will sometimes sound a good deal more serious than it really is. Still, a half-formed idea--a perfectly crazy idea--made me go over the whole machine very carefully to make sure she was all right. When I was through I stood up and found that she was regarding me curiously, yet with some amusement. She seemed to feel herself mistress of the situation, and to consider me as an interesting plaything. I didn't approve that attitude. "At all events," she said when she met my eyes, and speaking as if there had been no break in our conversation, "you are rather a _good_ joke. Thank you so much." I put away the wrench, fastened the lid of the tool-box, and then I faced her grimly. "I see mere words are wasted on you," I said. "I shall have to carry you off--Beryl King; I _shall_ carry you off if you look at me that way again!"