CHAPTER V
“EVANS, S. R.”
The car ran silently through the Park and out on the broad Sheridan Road. Orme put on as much speed as was safe in a district where there were so many police. From time to time the girl indicated the direction with a word or two. She seemed to be using the opportunity to rest, for her attitude was relaxed.
The hour was about eleven, and the streets were as yet by no means deserted. As they swung along Orme was pleased by the transition from the ugliness of central Chicago to the beauty of suburbs—doubly beautiful by night. The great highway followed the lake, and occasionally, above the muffled hum of the motor, Orme could hear the lapping of the wavelets on the beach.
The girl roused herself. Her bearing was again confident and untired. “Have you been up this way before?” she asked.
“No, Girl.”
“This is Buena Park we are passing now. We shall soon reach the city limits.”
Clouds had been gathering, and suddenly raindrops began to strike their faces. The girl drew her cloak more closely about her. Orme looked to see that she was protected, and she smiled back with a brave attempt at cheerful comradeship. “Don’t worry about me,” she said. “I’m quite dry.” With that she leaned back and drew from the tonneau a light robe, which she threw about his shoulders.