new passenger's chair. "I hope you'll excuse me," he said, "I'm Daniels,
representing the _Seattle Press_, and I thought you would like to see this
story go in straight."

Tisdale swung his chair a little towards the open rear door, so that he
was able to watch without seeming to see the progress of the comedy. He
was quick enough to catch the sweeping look she gave the intruder, aloof
yet fearless, as though she saw him across an invisible barrier. "You mean
you are a reporter," she asked quietly, "and are writing an account of the
accident for your newspaper?"

"Yes." Daniels dropped his cap into the next chair and seated himself
airily on the arm. The camera swung by a carrying strap from his shoulder,
and he opened a notebook, which he supported on his knee while he felt in
his pocket for a pencil. "Of course I recognized young Morganstein;
everybody knows him and that chocolate car; he's been run in so often for
speeding about town. And I suppose he was touring through Snoqualmie Pass
to the races at North Yakima fair. There should be some horses there worth
going to see."

"We meant to spend a day or two at the fair," she admitted, "but we
expected to motor on, exploring a little in the neighborhood."

"I see. Up the valley to have a look at the big irrigation dam the
Government is putting in and maybe on to see the great Tieton bore. That
would have been a fine trip; sorry you missed it." Daniels paused to place
several dots and hooks on his page. "I recognized Miss Morganstein, too,"
he went on, "though she was too busy to notice me. I met her when I was
taking my course in journalism at the State University; danced with her at
the Junior Prom. And the other lady, whose wrist was sprained, must have