Diane of the Green Van by Leona Dalrymple
page 64 of 383 (16%)
page 64 of 383 (16%)
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a throb, the great car leaped, humming, to the road.
At midnight the lights of Harlem lay ahead. The ride from the hills, three hours of storm and squirting gravel, had been made with the persistent whir and drone of a speeding engine. But once had it rested black and silent in a lonely road of dripping trees, while the driver hurried into a roadside tavern and telephoned. Now, with a purring sigh as a bridge loomed ahead, the car slackened and stopped. Carl slowly lighted a cigarette. At the end of the bridge a straggler struck a match and flung it lightly in the river, the disc of his cigar a fire-point in the shadows. The car rolled on again and halted. A stocky young man behind the fire-point emerged from the darkness and climbed briskly into the tonneau. "Hello, Hunch," said Carl. "'Lo!" said Hunch and stared intently at the robe. "Take a look at him," invited Carl carelessly. "It's not often you have an opportunity of riding with one of his brand. He's in the _Almanach de Gotha_." "T'ell yuh say!" said Hunch largely, though the term had conveyed no impression whatever to his democratic mind. Cautiously raising the robe Hunch Dorrigan stared with interest at the |
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