"Patience. He's always tinkering with the motor—he'll be ready any minute. You were saying—?"
"I want you to let me drop you at the railroad and take the train back to Town, with your chauffeur for protection, while I go on in the car."
Undisguised derision honoured this proposal. "But why should I, when it is you, not I, the Sultan of Loot is after? If the train can be considered safe, surely you're the one—"
"You forget, Morphew's people will aim at your motor-car, believing me to be in it whether I am or not. If I should succeed in leaving it unobserved, they would still pursue the car. You can't ask me to expose you to a danger from which I turn tail."
"Then why shouldn't we both take the train?"
"It is what you American call an accomodation—stops at every station. If we should abandon your car to be found near the railroad, it would be too simple to have the train anticipated by telephone, boarded somewhere between here and New York, and the two of us kept so closely watched we would have no chance . . ."
The woman's head described a sign of flat rejection——Lanyard's rueful recognition of an outcome foreseen.
"Impossible, my friend. I couldn't dream of leaving you to shift for yourself."
"But how else—?"
"I have a saner scheme. Why not stop here for the night? The inn must have accomodations. . . . You see!" Eve cried in laughing triumph—"you are trying to get rid of me when the truth is, you need me. Two heads are better than one . . . But why shake yours so dourly?"