ing right out again. I've got work for you that will
keep you guessing, as Rupert says. Let me see, it's eight o'clock and
you walked over; I'll wager you have had no dinner."

"I don't want anything," Corrie refused, his face averted, his fingers
gripping the mantel-shelf until his nails showed white from pressure.

"All right; I do. I declined my coffee and some of Mrs. Carter's
ambrosial apple pie, this evening, and I have been repenting ever since.
You are a fine pretext for having them brought in to us now. Besides, I
shall have to keep you in good shape if you are going to help me put
through a scheme of mine. Of course, I am not altering my plan of living
merely because I have got one arm to use in place of two. I have to have
some things done for me instead of doing them myself, that's all. I need
you," he paused, and lifted to his companion the cordial brilliancy of
his smile, "and I am glad to have you, Corrie."

When, an hour later, the guest rose to depart, Gerard detained him for a
final word.

"One thing before you go," he said, with a quiet force of command that
belonged to the other Allan Gerard whom Corrie had not yet
encountered--the master of many men and affairs, instead of the racing
driver and social playmate. "We will not speak again of the subject we
have concluded to-night. I do not wish the accident to the Mercury
recalled or discussed between us, ever. We are beyond that. Good night;
I suppose you would rather start with me, day after to-morrow, than
alone, later?"

Long afterward Gerard came to remember that straight glance of utter
helplessness and struggling confusion from Corrie's tired eyes.

"I, I can't _think_," confessed Corrie Rose. "I'm in too deep to find a
way out. I--my head----" he pushed back his heavy fair hair. "Yes, I'd
rather start with you, if you will let me. Tell me whatever you want of
me, Gerard; I'll always do it. Good night."

The closing of the outer door was the signal for Rupert's return to the
parlor.

"Your time on the track is up," he reminded, "and you need your sleeps."

"I am not sleepy, Rupert. We will go home to the factory, day after
to-morrow, and continue work on that special racing car of mine. Corrie
Rose is going to drive it when it is done, since I cannot."

The mechanician slowly stiffened.

"Not precisely?" he refused credence.

"Oh, yes; for practice and testing, at first, and racing later. Until it
is built I shall put him in traini