rush up to the extreme south end of the platform. She was not thinking
of Windomshire or his machine. That is why she failed to witness an
extraordinary incident.

As the driver leaped from the car a second man disconnected himself
from the shadows, paused for a moment to take orders from the new
arrival, and then jumped into the seat just vacated. Whereupon the
one-time driver performed precisely the same feat that Dauntless had
performed three minutes before him. He jerked forth a couple of bags
and then proceeded to lift from the tonneau of the car a vague but
animate something, which, an instant later, resolved itself into the
form of a woman at his side.

"I've settled with the company, Meaders," hurriedly announced
Windomshire to the man on the seat. "The car is in your hands now."

"Yes, sir; I understand. Your week is up to-night. Hope it was
satisfactory, sir." The car shot off in the night, almost running down
a man who scudded across the street in its path.

"Just in time, Anne," said Windomshire to the tall, hooded figure
beside him. "Thank God, we didn't miss it."

"Hasn't it been good sport, Harry?" cried the young woman, with an
unmistakably English inflection. "It's just like a book."

"Only more so," he observed. "This has really happened, you know.
Things never really happen in books, don't you know. You've not lost
your tickets, dear?"