"No answer?"
"No answer."
"Then I'll hurry back to my embroidery. I'm several laps behind in my work already."
"See here, Lestrange," Dick began, as the mechanician departed, sitting down on a railing beside a machine steadily engaged in notching steel disks into gear-wheels.
"Don't do that!" Lestrange exclaimed sharply. "Get up, Ffrench."
"It's safe enough."
"It's nothing of the kind. The least slip—"
"Oh, well," he reluctantly rose, "if you're going to get fussy. Read what Emily sent up."
Lestrange accepted the card with a faint flicker of expression.
"Dick, uncle is making the steering-knuckle wait for expert opinion," the legend ran, in pencil. "Have Mr. Bailey strengthen Mr. Lestrange's car, anyhow. Do not let him race so."