With a movement of the hand Burns stopped his engine, now
running quietly, and stood up straight. He threw out one bare
arm, grimy and oily with his labours. "Two hours ago," said
he in a voice now controlled and solemn, "if by cutting off
that right arm at the shoulder I could have saved a human life
I'd have done it."

"And now," retorted Chester quickly, "now, two hours after -
would you cut it off now?"

Red Pepper looked at him. The arm dropped. "No," said he, "I
wouldn't. Not for a dozen lives like that. I'm not heroic,
after all - only hot and cold by jumps, like a thermometer.
But I ache all over, just the same. She runs like a bird now.
Jump in - we'll take a spin and try her out on the road. I
may need her before midnight."

Nothing loth, for he knew the Green Imp and her driver and had
had many a swift run on a moonlight night before in the same
company, Chester took the slim roadster's other seat, watching
the long green hood point the way down the driveway, past the
porch where the women, in white gowns showing coolly in the
light from the arc lamp at the corner of the street, called a
goodbye.

"Back - some time," replied Chester's voice, rising above the
low purr of the engine with a note of satisfaction in it. The
figure beside him, still in open, white shirt, with bare arms
and uncovered, thick thatch of red hair, did not turn its