It didn’t seem as if they could go any faster, but they did, and if it had been anybody driving except Farnsworth, Patty would have felt frightened. But she knew his skill, and too, she knew that he never let excitement or enthusiasm run away with his judgment. So she sat as still as she could, striving to catch her breath in the face of the wind; and refraining from speech, lest she distract Bill’s attention even for a second.
At last, when they had a long, clear view ahead, and they saw the red car ever increasing the distance between them, Bill gave up.
“It’s no use, Patty; we can’t catch them! I’ve done all I can, but that car they’re in is a world-beater! They went through Greenwich like a streak. They would have been arrested, but no one could stop them. Oh, I say, My Little Girl,—I have an idea!”
“Is your idea faster than their car, Little Billee?”
“You bet it is! Just you wait and see; Patty, we’ve got ’em!”
Farnsworth turned around and drove rapidly back to Greenwich, which they had just passed through.
At a hotel there, he jumped out, told Patty to wait, and rushed into the office.
It was nearly ten minutes before he returned, and Patty could scarcely believe that whatever plan he had could be of any use after such delay.
He jumped in beside her, turned around, and in a minute they were again whizzing along, following the direction of the other car.
“I’ll tell you what I did, Patty,” he said, chuckling. “I telephoned to the Stamford Chief of Police, and asked him to arrest those people for speeding as they crossed the city limit!”