The car swung into the highway.

"Drive faster," commanded Pauline.

The listless hands hardened on the wheel. She saw him bend over and
fix his vision on the road. She thrilled at the miracle she had
wrought.

More speed, and the wind blew her cape from her shoulders; the dust
beat in her face. She merely tightened her veil and sat silent.

"Take the first turn to the right," she called in his ear as they
neared the crossroad. He did not slacken the speed.

"It's a sharp turn; slow a little," she cautioned. He did not seem to
hear her.

She placed her hand sharply on his arm. He drove past the crossroad,
the speed to the last notch.

Pauline tried to stand up in the seat and seize the wheel. He thrust
her back with one hand, not even looking at her. He was leaning far
over the wheel now, his eyes blazing. She could see the beat of blood
in his temple.

"Stop! Stop! You are on the wrong road. You will kill us both!" she
screamed in his deaf ears. She tried again to wrest the wheel from
him, but this time he held her fast after he had flung her back. She
had raised up a Frankenstein for her own destruction. She was being
driven by a madman.

As they took the curve outside Westbury village another car filled with
men and women fairly grazed them. The women screamed and the men
shouted wildly after them. But they flashed on.

Down the hill at Gangley's Mills the pace grew even greater. From the
west prong of the road fork at the bottom a taxicab shot into view.
There was a shout of warning, a rattle and creak as the taxi swerved,
safe by inches.

On the skirts of Clayville a group of farmers and a constable were
arguing a roadside dispute. Pauline could see dim figures leap into
the road waving arms; she could hear them shouting. The figures jumped
to either side as Palmer drove through the group.

They sprang back into the road, cursing and shaking their fists, only
to be routed anew by the rush of the taxicab following.

The roadster straightened out on the ledge of Scrogg Hill. In spite of
the curve and the precipice Palmer held his speed. His daring, his
utter mastery, stirred a kind of admiration in Pauline and the death
she saw looming stirred anew her courage. She wrenched her arm free
from his grip. She stood up and swung her weight against the man,
rasping for the wheel. The car swerved toward the cliff, but he jerked
it back, striking at her brutally with his free hand.