the loss of a hundred and twenty-five lives, mostly of girls. That
showed what the American people had to guard against.

"I hate them all!" muttered Bob angrily. He took that back a moment
later, however, as he thought of Heinrich. Surely their chauffeur was as
faithful and kindly a soul as ever lived; his love for animals proved
that. Then there was Lena, their cook, a buxom woman of forty who had
never been heard to utter a cross word in her life.

Heinrich was capable of getting mad, however, particularly about the car.
Bob wondered what he would say if he should arrive home now, and find him
preparing to go out in it and perhaps get it dirty.

His reverie was suddenly interrupted by the sound of two whistles. A
moment later the motor was purring softly, and with the headlights
dimmed, the big sixty horse-power car slid out of the garage and started
silently down the driveway.




CHAPTER VII

IN THE NIGHT


"They're starting," said Hugh in a low voice. He jumped upon the running
board as Bob came along, and climbed into the front seat beside him.
"Let's wait here a minute," he whispered.