Gradually they began to encounter more vehicles, the majority of which seemed to be traveling toward the city.
“Strange those wagons are all going that way,” said Aurora.
“Nothing so strange about it,” said Jim. “Most of them are lumber wagons filled with country produce, such as vegetables, eggs and fruit. They leave the farms early in the night so as to be on hand at the Baltimore market when it opens for business in the morning.”
On they flew at a high speed, the lights ahead becoming brighter and brighter. Soon an electric light burst before their vision off to the right, then another, and another, until they realized that they were, indeed, in the outskirts of Baltimore.
Gerald ran the car more slowly now, for city ordinances are very strict, imposing a low limit on the speed of autos when within the confines of a municipality. Gerald had never been fined for speeding since coming into possession of an auto, and he had made up his mind that he never would be.
Through the shopping district they went, and into a brilliantly-lighted residence street, thence into smaller, narrower streets as Gerald turned the big Ajax toward the shore of the bay.
Then old Bellvieu, lying dark and silent in the moonlight, a single light twinkling from the servants’ quarters in the rear, burst upon their view. The car ran quickly along the hedge and stopped before the gate.
Gerald looked at his watch.
“It is just eleven-thirty,” he said. “I have the honor to report that I have beaten the time I suggested by several minutes—enough to give you time to unload your things and get to bed before the clock strikes twelve.”