"Bail?" demanded Winthrop. "Do you mean to tell me he will
detain us here?"

"He will, if he wants to," answered the chief of police
combatively.

For an instant Winthrop sat gazing gloomily ahead, overcome
apparently by the enormity of his offence. He was calculating
whether, if he rammed the two-inch plank, it would hit the car
or Miss Forbes. He decided swiftly it would hit his new
two-hundred-dollar lamps. As swiftly he decided the new lamps
must go. But he had read of guardians of the public safety so
regardless of private safety as to try to puncture runaway
tires with pistol bullets. He had no intention of subjecting
Miss Forbes to a fusillade.

So he whirled upon the chief of police:

"Take your hand off that gun!" he growled. "How dare you
threaten me?"

Amazed, the chief of police dropped from the step and advanced
indignantly.

"Me?" he demanded. "I ain't got a gun. What you mean by----"

With sudden intelligence, the chauffeur precipitated himself
upon the scene.

"It's the other one," he shouted. He shook an accusing finger