Dickie flashed a glance at the clock on the Richard's dash at Gregory's words. Every minute was going to count. It was up to the speed-boat to show what she could do. Opening the cut-out, the girl began to get the speed-craft under way. With a roar
which drowned out the wind, the Richard mounted to the white-capped swells and raced for the mainland. There was only one chance in a hundred of making it on time. She set her lips grimly and gripped the wheel. If it was only one in a thousand, she'd take it—for Kenneth Gregory.
CHAPTER XXVI
THE VALUE OF PUBLICITY
"What time is it?"
Gregory huddled to the floor of the cockpit and drew out his watch. "Two-thirty," he shouted above the frenzied snapping of the open exhaust.
Dickie hurled the Richard into a mounting wall of green water which tottered above them. Then she cried through set lips: "Just about half-way. We're over the worst of it though. The nearer we get to shore the better time we'll make. We're sure going to need it too."
Gregory nodded absent-mindedly. His mind was filled with the problem of what he was going to do if he did arrive at Legonia on time. Dickie had made a wonderful run thus far, had handled the Richard masterfully against wind and wave, had more than done her part. Soon her work would be done. Then his would begin. And what was he going to do?