“Yes. Her real name is Helen Tower. The woman had pictures, and a key to the house. But she was a very disagreeable person.”
“Too bad for the child,” he muttered. “Did the girl know her?”
“No, she didn’t. And she didn’t want to go. But Mrs. Fishberry insisted. And now she is making things very unpleasant for me.”
“How’s that?”
“She claims that I smashed into Amy with my autogiro—that there wasn’t any car at all. And she’s going to sue me for fifty thousand dollars!”
“How can she?” demanded her companion, angrily. Then his eyes twinkled, and he asked suddenly, “Was there really a car, Linda?”
Linda’s eyes blazed. Did this man actually think she would lie? Of course, he hadn’t known her long, but she thought he knew her well enough for that.
“Of course, there was a car,” she replied, haughtily. “A gray car, driven by an elderly man, at eighty miles an hour—or something like that. I have Miss Crowley as a witness, but they say they have one, too, and I suppose I shall have to go to court.”
“Always in the newspapers,” he remarked, teasingly.
“Yes, and not only that, but I expect to take a job in the fall that may take me far away from Chicago. It’s going to be awfully inconvenient, even if I don’t have to pay any money.”