Anna Alice Chapin

“ Sixty-five miles an hour! And the race was over. Instinctively Guy sounded his motor horn, and the driver of the second Winton turned with a hasty backward glance.
“Why did you do that?” snapped the girl. “Giving him warning!”
“Well, I don't want to kill him. Steady! We'll jolt a little when we let up on this!”
The car ahead swerved out politely, and Guy's big machine swung in beside it at a miraculously slower gait. Breath for breath the two cars pounded along abreast.
The driver of this Winton was a thickset man with an iron-gray mustache; not the usual type of crook, obviously. ”

“ Football, and spending money. Oh, Lord! And running a car. Say, it was a pippin of a car, and no mistake!
The spell of humility was broken. He chuckled, and played with his new toy for quite half an hour, happily trying speed after speed. Then he whistled: “My Girl's a High-born Lady!” and looked about him.
He was running slowly, the indicator at about twenty. He had been experimenting with that odd, sensatory illusion which arises from a big shift in speed. To go from fifty miles an hour to thirty-five is to be convinced that you are crawling at a footpace. ”

“ Yes! It was a Winton—he saw that in another moment; but she touched his arm quickly and shook her head.
“That's not the right one!” she cried in his ear.
“But it's your car!”
“It isn't! It isn't!” she exclaimed violently. “Pass it. Please do as I say, and pass it!”
They snorted past at a rate of forty miles an hour; and Guy caught a glimpse of a white fox face half hidden by a turned-up collar. Turned up on a day like this!
“You're sure?” said Guy. ”

“ He had leisure to feel passing spasms of compassion for all the other people he met, because they hadn't his A-1, gilt-edged, superlative automobile—pleasant compassion, largely composed of boyish arrogance. ”

“ Ledvyard's stolen rubies or they'd all be fired from the force.
“They're old hands!” declared the lieutenant, with conviction. “Faith, it's many the good haul they've made—'specially among society folk. The girl does it fine, I've heard. This must have been a pretty careful plant, Mr. Ledyard.”
“They evidently knew what kind of car I had when I was going to get the jewels and all that,” said the thickset man. “But this is their accomplice. Make him talk—the low-down, rattle-boned, monkey-eyed jellyfish!”
Guy nodded his head and wiped his brow. ”

“ They never got the rubies. But, strange to say, Mr. Ledyard forgave him after a long time. Guy, however, never forgave himself, and he vowed that never, never would he forgive the “maiden in distress,” who had so cruelly hoodwinked and made use of him. ”

“ But I want your society badly.”
“I can't bear to have him in the car with me!” complained the girl, with a shudder.
Guy gave a shrug of despair. If that wasn't like a “maiden in distress!”
The man in the first Winton came unexpectedly to the rescue.
“I can give the lady a lift if she doesn't care to escort the crook,” he suggested civilly.
“Crook!” snarled the thickset man wildly.
That, in fact, was the final arrangement. The thickset man was obliged to abandon the Winton by the roadside and to get into Guy's car, while Miss Ledyard climbed up beside the fox-faced stranger. ”