"Was that time enough in which to substitute a defective axle?" Jack
asked.

"Oh, yes; a man expert at such work could do it in considerably less
time."

"Such a defective axle might run along smoothly, quite a while at low
speed?" Benson persisted.

"Yes."

"But at high speed--?"

"Look at this axle!" continued the garage man, excitedly. "You know
something about steel, don't you, young man?"

"Enough to run machinery."

"You see what a flawed piece of steel this is--unsuited to any strain?
I don't believe this axle could stand the strain of high speed in a big
auto for the distance of a mile."

"That's about all it stood with us," muttered Jack Benson, his face
white, his jaws firmly set.

"There's been some nasty work here," continued the garage man. "It
wasn't done by my chauffeur, either. He's probably the worst hurt of any
in your party, which assures his innocence of a hand in the despicable
work."