He ran up to the children, and taking his sister in his arms, pressed his hand over her mouth until he had spoken a word in her ear. Then followed by Ivan carrying Rika, he walked steadily round the corner of the platform.
Before him stood the roadster, with the Red Cross flag. Without an instant's hesitation, he slipped into the driver's seat, Elinor still in his arms. He thrust her between his knees, as Ivan took the other seat, and tucked little Rika out of sight in the same manner.
As he did so, they heard a series of hoarse screams, and the two women, beating the air and wringing their hands, came rushing around the corner. Warren started the car full speed, and they started with a jerk that almost threw them out. Looking behind, Ivan saw the women point to the car and to his dismay a soldier on a motorcycle jumped from his machine and ran up to them. As the car sped down the long avenue, Ivan saw a last glimpse of the man returning to his machine. They were followed.
"They are after us!" he said to Warren.
"What with?" asked Warren, his eyes on the road. "There was no other machine."
"A soldier on a motorcycle. Make the first turn you can."
Warren whipped the little racer round one curve and then another. He was thinking deeply.
Elinor commenced to cry.
"Don't let them get me, Warry!" she begged.
"You are all right, dear," he answered. Then to Ivan: