s
looking for the dark-red roadster that had eaten up distance so
greedily between Inglewood and the city, and he did not see it. He was
standing dismayed, a slim, perturbed young fellow in khaki, with a grip
in one hand and a canvas gun case in the other, when some one touched
him on the arm. He needed the second glance to tell him it was Cliff,
and even then it was the smooth, bored voice that convinced him. Cliff
wore a motor coat that covered him from chin to heels, a leather cap
pulled down over his ears, and driving goggles as concealing as a mask.
He led the way to a touring car that looked like any other touring
car--except to a man who could know the meaning of that high, long,
ventilated hood and the heavy axles and wheels, and the general air of
power and endurance, that marked it a thoroughbred among cars. The
tonneau, Johnny saw as he climbed in, was packed tight with what looked
like a camp outfit. His own baggage was crowded in somehow, and the
side curtains, buttoned down tight, hid the load from passers-by.
Cliff pulled his coat close around his legs, climbed in, set his heel
on the starter.

A pulsing beat, smooth, hushed, and powerful, answered. Cliff pulled
the gear lever, eased in the clutch, and they slid quietly away down
the street for two blocks, swung to the left and began to pick up speed
through the thinning business district that dwindled presently to
suburban small dwellings.

"Put on that coat and the goggles, old man," Cliff directed, his eyes
on the lookback mirror, searching the highway behind them. "We've got
an all-night drive, and it will be cold later on, so the coat will
serve two purposes. It's hard to identify a man in a passing
automobile if he's wearing a motor coat and goggles. You couldn't
swear to your twin brother going by."

"This is a bear of a car," Johnny glowed, all atingle now with the
adventure and its flavor of mystery. "I didn't know you had two. I
was looking for the red one."

"I forgot to tell you." Which Johnny felt was a lie, because Cliff
Lowell did not strike him as the kind of man who forgot things. "Yes,
I keep two. This is good for long trips when I want to take
luggage--and so on." His tone did not invite further conversation. He
seemed absorbed now in his driving; and his driving, Johnny decided,
was enough to absorb any man. Yard by yard he was sending the
big-nosed car faster ahead, until the pointer on the speedometer seemed
to