‘Pardon me, you couldn’t,’ she said flatly; ‘the steering is smashed.’
‘I had thought of that,’ he replied quietly, as he picked up the small broken wheel out of the road. ‘If we tie a rope to either end of your front axle, and join them at the rear of my car, your car would steer itself automatically.’
‘So it would,’ she said; ‘you are resourceful.
I will accept your offer.’ Then she examined his car with the rapid glance of an expert.
‘Well I never!’ she murmured.
He looked a question.
‘It is a curious coincidence,’ she explained, ‘but we have recently ordered an electric car precisely like yours, and were expecting it to arrive to-morrow—my father and I, I mean. Yours is one of the Williamson Motor Company’s vehicles, is it not?’
Richard bowed.
‘There is no coincidence,’ he said. ‘This car is destined for Mr. Craig. I am bringing it up to Hockliffe. You will remember that Mr. Craig asked that it should be sent by road in charge of a man?’
‘A man!’ she repeated; and, after a pause: