"T—to—to San Marco," he stumbled. "W—well, say, that's a new one on me. Never had this car out o' Sunbeam yet."
"Please—please!" the girl pleaded.
"Lady," said the chauffeur, "I'd do anything I could, within reason—"
"Can you get us to San Marco by one o'clock?" she demanded.
"I ain't no prophet, lady." A humorous gleam came into his eye. "But ever since I got this car I been feelin' sort o' reckless. If you say so, I'll bid all my family and friends good-by, and we'll take a chance on San Marco together."
"That's the spirit," laughed Minot. "But forget the family and friends."
He placed his baggage in the front of the car, and helped the girl into the tonneau. With a show of speed, the countryman went around to the front of the car and began to crank.
He continued to crank with agonized face. In the course of a few minutes, sounds of a terrific disturbance came from inside the car. Still, like a hurdy-gurdy musician, the man cranked.
"I say," Minot inquired, "has your machine got the Sextette from Lucia?"
"Well, there's been a lot of things wrong with it," the man replied, "but I don't think it's had that yet."