. . . . . . .
Elaine had asked me to go shopping in the village with her that afternoon. While I waited for her in her little car, she came down at last, carrying a little handbag. We drove off a moment later.
It was a delightful ride, not too warm, but sunny. Without realizing it, we found ourselves on the road that led past Del Mar's.
As we approached, I saw that there was a taxicab standing in front of the gate. The hood was lifted and the driver was apparently tinkering with his engine.
"Let's not stop," said Elaine, who had by this time a peculiar aversion to the man.
As we passed the driver, apparently not seeing us, stepped out and, before we could turn out, we had knocked him down. We stopped and ran back.
There he lay on the road, seemingly unconscious. We lifted him up and I looked toward Del Mar's house.
"Help!" I shouted at the top of my voice.
The valet came to the door.
Hearing me, the valet ran out down the walk. "All right," he cried.
"I'll be there in a minute."