The Argosy, Vol. 82 No. 2 — page 28: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

210 of her; and without pausing to test the no- tion for possible pure absurdity, Jane leaned forward and spoke quietly to her chauffeur: “Is the car working perfectly, Cragg?” Cragg started violently. “Ves, ma’am,” said he. ‘““There ain’t any- thing better in the world than this six.” ‘““You’re used to driving faster than this?” “Ves, ma’am,” Cragg replied with a sick- ly smile. “Do it!” his mistress directed briefly. Her substitute driver may have had his odd points, but he knew how to obey; she was no more than settling back again when the big machine leaped forward like a live thing freed of its leash. Farnham grinned and steadied himself. Mrs. Hapworthy struck the back of the seat so suddenly that for a minute or more sheer astonishment dispelled her sinister mood. Afterward the mood returned and she was silent as before—but Mary Callum and Aunt Hettie, screaming in unison, clutched each other; and then, as Aunt Hettie thrust the girl from her she cried: “Has the man gone crazy?” “T told him to do it,” said Jane. “Tell him to stop it!” “We'll never get anywhere at that rate, aunt,” Jane submitted. ‘You will not mind it after a minute or two.” “But Ido mind! I—” Then Aunt Het- tie said no more, for the car met a consid- erable bump and floated lightly over it and Aunt Hettie’s words returned to her throat. Jane herself took small account of the speed. They were tearing along now at something like forty-five miles an hour, roaring past fences, jumping the rough spots, swerving quite hair-raisingly as they whizzed past other cars and horse-drawn country vehicles, but the motion rather soothed her than otherwise. If Thompson were somewhere behind, the distance between them was widening; be-. yond that nothing mattered. They hurtled past a farm-wagon, missing it so narrowly that the driver stood erect and bawled words they could not hear but could almost see; and while Mary Callum covered her eyes and buried her snow-white face on Aunt Hettie’s shoulder, while Aunt Hettie shook a threatening finger at Jane and spoke her mind loudly yet inaudibly, Jane smiled her apology, bent her head to the wind and thought on, this time taking a new path. : They were headed—whither? ‘The rest THE ARGOSY. of them, naturally but foolishly, assumed that she was conveying them to some defi- nite and pleasurable spot; nothing could have been farther from the fact. Mentally, Jane’s eye examined the map of New York State. There were many lo- calities that might be harboring Thompson; there was just one spot where he was ot! Again Jane leaned close to the driver’s ear. ‘Slow down; I want to talk to you,” she said. “Just how many miles is this car good for in a day?” Cragg’s pale and peculiar grin half turned to her. ‘All you want to get out of her, lady.” “You can get to Albany easily?” “T’ll take you out of it again two hours from now, if you say so, miss.” Jane nodded emphatically. ‘Do it, then. Run up Schenectady way and then head for the woods.”’ “Yes, ma’am!”’ said Cragg, touching his cap as he steered the beautiful car with one hand. ‘And if you can make Batesford before night, do it, if the car will hold together!” — added his mistress, nervously. ‘Do you know where Batesford is—a little village?” With a thud and a grind, the car stopped short! The strange chauffeur, whirling about, faced Jane with wide, wild eyes. ‘“Batesford!” said he. “Do you—do you know the place?” Jane asked, drawing back from him sudden- ly as Farnham rose and moved to her side. ‘Whatever makes you glare like that, Cragg? Is it—” Suddenly as he had turned upon her, Mr. Cragg relaxed again. His eyes dropped and his working lips were drawn together. ‘““I—I know where it is, lady,” he choked. “We could never make it.” ‘“Something’s all wrong with you, my man,’ Farnham volunteered, curiously. “If you're not feeling fit to drive, be frank about it.”’ “T’m all right—it ain’t me!” Cragg as- sured him hastily. “It’s the car, boss. She could never make Batesford in one piece—- never! Not in the shape she is. We’re in great luck if I can get her as far as Albany and into the machine-shop.”’ “But you said—” Jane began blankly. “T know what I said, lady, but I didn’t want to worry you about the car while we were on the road. She’s in awful shape— horrible shape! The transmission’s grind- CORMMICLOOOKS (C@