"Two," was the grim answer.

With keen eyes, that took note of every obstruction or vehicle that
might block her, Cora drove her car on. Around corners, and through
busy streets she piloted it. They were but a block from the center
of the town.

"There's the train," spoke Paul quietly as the engine pulled into
the station.

"And we're at the building of the Whitehall auto concern!" exclaimed
Cora triumphantly a few seconds later, as she guided the car up to
the curb. "Hurry!" she called to Paul. As if he needed to be told
that!

He leaped from the car and ran across the pavement to the office.
As he entered the door Sid Wilcox, coming leisurely from the
direction of the station, saw him. Sid started, and then, with a
quick motion, hurried after Paul. But the chauffeur was ahead of
him, and the door slammed shut in the face of the owner of the
Streak.

Paul, thanks to Cora's aid, had won the race against time.

"Oh, I do hope he gets the place," she said as she stopped her
engine and prepared to rest while Paul was within the office of the
motor company.