Even as he spoke, a crossroads traffic light flashed red. Though the driver applied the foot brake with quick stabs, the car went into a disastrous skid. Out of control, it slid crosswise in the narrow road. The front wheels rolled into a deep, slippery ditch.
“Just our luck!” muttered Mr. Parker.
Several times the driver tried to back the car from the ditch. Failing, he and Mr. Parker pushed while Penny handled the steering wheel. The tires kept spinning and would not grip the ice.
“No use,” the publisher acknowledged at last. “We’re only wasting time. We need a tow car.”
“The nearest house or filling station is at least a mile up the road,” volunteered Penny. “I’m afraid we’re stalled here until the police car comes along.”
They climbed into the taxi and waited. No vehicle of any description came by. With increasing impatience, Mr. Parker looked at his watch.
“It’s nearly seven o’clock now!” he exclaimed. “Either the police are waiting farther down the road, or they’ve taken a different route!”
“What are we going to do?” Penny asked helplessly. “If we sit here much longer we’ll miss catching those men at their meeting.”
“I don’t see what we can do. Maybe our best bet is to walk to the nearest filling station.”
Penny suddenly was struck with an idea. “The Riverview Yacht Club is closer!” she cried.