“Every inch,” was the reply. “Great Scott! You surely don’t want her to do any more? We’re going over fifty now. What would happen if we struck an obstruction?”
The American smiled grimly.
“I guess we’re going to strike nothing this side of Hilton,” he remarked. “We’ll do the striking when we arrive.”
Round sharp corners they whirled on two wheels, the other pair high in the air. A hundred times the car seemed like to overturn, yet somehow the catastrophe which appeared inevitable never happened. Always, at the last moment, Oswyn’s consummate skill and his knowledge of the road saved the situation.
The dark stretch of road trailed swiftly away behind them as the moments flew by, and once again Haverly drew forth his watch.
“How much further?” he questioned.
“Nearly there,” his friend replied. He shut off the power as he spoke, and the car, rounding a curve by its own momentum, came to a standstill before a massive pair of iron gates, flanked by a lodge.
Leaping out, the millionaire pulled the great bell-handle which hung down from the pillar.
Ere the clanging of the bell had ceased, the door of the lodge opened, and the keeper stepped out, carrying a lantern.
“What do you want?” he asked suspiciously, throwing the light upon the two men and the motionless car.