horn sharply.

"I hope no one is coming toward us," he groaned, slowing up sharply.
"We never can pass in this confounded lane. If we get off into the
soft ground--Hello! Here he comes--and no lights either! Hey! Look
out!" He brought his car to an abrupt standstill.

"Where are we, Joe?" she cried.

"Near the crossroads, I'm sure. Curse an idiot that runs around
without lights on a night like this," he growled, forgetting that his
own lamps were dark.

Out of the misty blackness loomed another car, directly ahead. It had
come to a sudden stop not ten feet away. Both cars were tooting their
horns viciously.

"Where are your lights?" roared Dauntless.

"Where are yours?" came back angrily through the fog.

"Good Lord!" gasped Joe, panic-stricken.

"It's Mr. Windomshire," whispered Eleanor, in consternation.

Before she realised what was happening her companion lifted her bodily
over the back of the seat and deposited her in the bed of the tonneau.

"Hide, dearest," he whispered. "Get under the storm blankets. He must
not see you! I'll--I'll bluff it out some way."