"Look!" cried Janet Cranston, in a frightened voice, from the back
of the car.

The light of the phonometer had flashed up. A car was following
us.

"There's just one chance!" cried Kennedy, springing to the wheel.
"We might make it on the rim."

Banging and pounding, we forged ahead, straining our eyes to watch
the road, the distance, the time, and the phonometer all at once.

It was no use. A big gray roadster was overtaking us. The driver
crowded us over to the very edge of the road, then shot ahead,
and, where the road narrowed down, deliberately pulled up across
the road in such a way that we had to run into him or stop.

Quickly Craig's automatic gleamed in the dim beams from the side
lights.

"Just a minute," cautioned a voice. "It was a plot against me,
quite as much as it was against her--the nurse to lead me on,
while the doctor got a rich patient. I suspected all was not
right. That's why I gave you the card. I knew you didn't come from
Burr. Then, when I heard nothing from you, I let the Giles woman
think I was coming to Montrose to be with her. But, really, I
wanted to beat that fake asylum--"

Two piercing headlights shone down the road back of us. We waited