It was the late forenoon, when after a hurried trip down to the office,
I rejoined Kennedy at his scientific workshop.
We walked down the street when a big limousine shot past. Kennedy stopped in the middle of a remark. He had recognized the car, with a sort of instinct.
At the same moment I saw a smiling face at the window of the car. It was Elaine Dodge.
The car stopped in something less than twice its length and then backed toward us.
Kennedy, hat off, was at the window in a moment. There were Aunt
Josephine, and Susie Martin, also.
"Where are you boys going?" asked Elaine, with interest, then added with a gaiety that ill concealed her real anxiety, "I'm so glad to see you—to see that—er—nothing has happened from that dreadful Clutching Hand."
"Why, we were just going up to our rooms," replied Kennedy.
"Can't we drive you around?"
We climbed in and a moment later were off. The ride was only too short for Kennedy. We stepped out in front of our apartment and stood chatting for a moment.
"Some day I want to show you the laboratory," Craig was saying.