"I had to come," she replied swiftly. "There was no one else. We must catch the train. Don't talk, please."
He leaned back wearily and watched the street as it seemed to flow past them.
"How much time have we?" he asked above the roaring of the wind.
"The train leaves at 6.35," she called back, without lifting her eyes. "Watch for clocks."
She had increased the speed gradually and the light car jumped as it struck a cross-town street-car track. Suddenly the car jolted, slid to a quick stop and with an exclamation of despair the girl strove to reverse and killed the engine.
"The street is closed below," she said. "Crank up, the engine is dead."
McCarthy leaped from the car and cranked rapidly. A precious minute was lost before the engine throbbed and the girl, turning the car quickly, ran back a block, swung across to a side street and raced for the station.
"The captain of the bell boys is waiting with the tickets. I sent him before I left the hotel," she said without lifting her eyes. "Jump from the car the moment I stop. He'll meet you at the gate."
"Two minutes—can we make it?" he asked.
"We'll try." Her face was set and white. She whirled the corner of the avenue onto the side street at full speed. A block and a half away was the station. The car was at racing speed now. The girl kept the siren screaming, hoping for a clear way. They tore toward the intersection of the streets—and directly ahead a lumbering team of horses, drawing a heavy wagon, trundled across their path. With a sudden swerve, a grinding of the emergency and a sickening lurch, the car checked its mad flight, scraped past the rear of the wagon, and gathering speed renewed the race against time.