“When do you want it? I had it out the other night and picked up a phonograph needle in the rear tire.”
“Tomorrow morning, at six o’clock. And the puncture won’t matter, Tom. I want you to put on four brand-new tires, of the best make in your shop. And you’d better put a new spare on the back. Charge ’em to me. And as a special favor, I want you personally to give the engine a thorough looking over, and see that she has all the oil and gas she’ll carry. By six A. M., Tom.”
“She’ll be ready. We’ll start to work right away. Shall we take a look at her?”
They stepped out into the garage, where Tom called to two mechanics who were working on an expensive limousine.
“Come on, you guys. Put that prairie schooner on the shelf for a while.”
“Mr. Hughes is coming for this tomorrow morning,” observed one of the men, hesitating.
“I know. Let Mr. Hughes wait! This is a special job for Mr. Fisher.”
They followed the foreman over to the far corner of the garage where two big low touring cars with streamline bodies stood side by side.
“What’s this, Tom, what’s this? Which is our car?” asked Fisher.
The two machines were identical. Except for the fact that one showed signs of having been on the road lately, while the other was clean and bright with a new set of tires, it would have been hard to tell them apart.