he country club!"

"Take _you_ there? Now, d'ye mean?" I ejaculated; and holding her like a
baby, Bill's eyes flared into mine. "Did something happen to you back
there, girl? Or did you just faint?"

"Never mind about me! There," that glance of hers that saw everything
indicated a parking place packed with machines half a block away up a
side street. "Carry me there. Take one of those cars. Get me to the
country club. Don't--" as I opened my mouth, "don't ask questions."

I turned and ran. Bill galloped behind. Barbara had lifted her head to
cry after me,

"The best one! Pick the fastest!"

I plunged down the line of cars, looking for a good machine and one with
whose drive I was familiar. The guard rushed up to stop me; I showed him
my badge, leaped into the front seat of a speed-built Tarpon, and had it
out by the time Bill came up with the girl in his arms. I turned and
swung open the tonneau door. Almost with one movement, he lifted her in
and climbed after. I started off with braying horn, and at that I had to
use caution. Making my way toward the corner of the street that led to
Bill's house, I felt a small hand clutch the slack of my coat between
the shoulders, and Barbara's voice, faint, but with a fury of
determination in it, demanded,

"Where are you going? I said the country club."

"All right; I'll go. I'll look after whatever you want out there when
I've got you home."

"Oh, oh," she moaned. "Won't you--this one time--take orders?"

I went on past the corner. She had a right to put it just that way. I
gave the Tarpon all I dared in town streets.

"What time is it?" I heard her whispering to Bill. "Eight minutes to
ten? I have to be there by ten, or it's no use. Can he make it? Do you
think he can make it?"

"Yes," I growled, crouching behind the wheel. "I'll make it. May have to
kill a few--but I'll get you there."

By this, we'd come out on the open highway, better, but not too clear,
either. There followed seven minutes of ripping through the night, of
people who ran yelling to get out of our way and hurled curses behind
us, only a few cars meeting us like the whirling of comets in terrifying
glimpses as we shot past; and, at last, the country club; strings of gay
lanterns, winking ruby tail-lights of machines parked in front of it,
the glare from its windows, and the strains of the orchestra in its
ballroom, playing "On the Beach at Waikiki." When she heard it, Barbara
thanked God with,