or astonishment. "Give me a
pencil. No, I can't take off my gauntlet; it's glued fast. I'll
manage. Rupert, go take an hour's rest and send me the other
mechanician."

"I can't get off my car; it's glued fast," Rupert confided, leaning
over the back of the machine to appropriate a sandwich from the basket
a man was carrying to the neighboring camp. "Go on with your
correspondence, dearest."

So resting the card Dick supplied on the steering-wheel, Lestrange
wrote a difficult two lines.

He was out again on the track when Dick brought the message to Emily.

"I just told him you were here, cousin," he whispered at her ear, and
dropped the card in her lap.

"I'll enjoy this more than ever, with you here," she read.
"It's the right place for my girl. I'll give you the cup for
our first dinner table, to-night.

"DAVID."

Emily lifted her face. The tragedy of the scene was gone, Lestrange's
eyes laughed at her out of a mist. The sky was blue, the sunshine
golden; the merry crowds commencing to pour in woke carnival in her
heart.

"He said to tell you the machine was running magnificently,"
supplemented Dick, "and not to insult his veteran reputation by
getting nervous. He's coming by--look."

He was coming by; and, although unable to look toward the grand-stand,
he raised his hand in salute as he passed, to the one he knew was
watching. Emily flushed rosily, her dark eyes warm and shining.

"I can wait," she sighed gratefully. "Dickie, I can wait until it
ends, now."

Dick went back.

The hours passed. One more car went out of the race under the grinding
test; there were the usual incidents of blown-out tires and temporary
withdrawals for repairs. Twice Mr. Ffrench sent his partner and Emily
to the restaurant below, tolerating no protests, but he himself never
left his seat. Perfectly composed, his expression perfectly
self-contained, he watched his son.

The day grew unbearably hot toward afternoon, a heat rather of July
than June. After a visit to his camp Lestrange reappeared without the
suffocating mask and cap, driving bareheaded, with only the narrow
goggles crossing his face. The change left visible the drawn pallor of
exhaustion under stains of dust and oil, his rolled-back sleeves
disclosed the crimson bandage on his right arm and the fact that his
left wrist was tightly wound with linen where swollen and strained
muscles rebelled at t