nd laid his hand on Corrie's
arm.

"Corrie, your cousin has told us the truth," he said. "We know, now, who
caused the wreck of my car last year."

Corrie started so violently as to overturn the jug in Rupert's hand and
send its contents over them both, his avid blue eyes flashed wide to
Gerard.

"Isabel----?"

"Isabel has told us that your companion threw the wrench that struck me,
and why you bore the charge. You stand cleared."

Corrie slowly drew himself erect in his seat, brushing the water from
his eyes and pushing back his wet clusters of fair hair. It was not so
much color as vital life that flowed into his face, mechanically he
reached for his mask.

"Thanks," he answered. "I can drive, now."

"Tanks full," shouted a score of voices.

Men scattered from around the car's wheels in expectation of the start,
Gerard stepped back. But Corrie turned in his seat and held out his hand
to the speechless Rupert.

"You heard--now do it," he required.

Still dumb, the mechanician dragged off his glove and gave for the
race's finish the hand-clasp that he had denied for its start.

The Mercury sprang from her camp with a roar of unloosed power and
speed-lust. Car and driver splendid mates, they fled in pulsating vigor
down their white path where the sun was shining.

During the rest of the hour, people stood up in seats and automobiles,
watching the Mercury Titan. Not before had they witnessed driving like
that, never again could the driver himself equal that inspired flight.

Just sixty-nine seconds ahead of his nearest rival, Corrie Rose brought
his car across the line. As he halted the Mercury before the judges, the
people burst out over the course and overwhelmed the victors. Music,
clicking cameras, cheers and congratulations--the current of gayety
swirled around the winning racer. The first to grasp Corrie's hand was
the official starter who had sent him out six hours before, the second
was the driver of the barely-defeated Marathon. After that, there was no
record possible.

It was some time before Corrie and Rupert could be rescued from the
enthusiastic press of admirers. When at last the Mercury came over to
its own camp, Gerard was first able to bring Flavia to her brother.

Stiff, weary and dishevelled, Corrie descended from his car, tripping
impatiently over the flowers someone had placed in it. There was a
perfunctory quality in the tenderness with which he kissed Flavia, as
there had been a