"That is not possible," Winthrop answered. "I have been going very slow—on purpose—to allow a disabled car to keep up with me."
The selectman looked down the road.
"It ain't kep' up with you," he said pointedly.
"It has until the last few minutes."
"It's the last few minutes we're talking about," returned the man who had not spoken. He put his foot on the step of the car.
"What are you doing?" asked Winthrop.
"I am going to take you to Judge Allen's. I am chief of police. You are under arrest."
Before Winthrop rose moving pictures of Miss Forbes appearing in a dirty police station before an officious Dogberry, and, as he and his car were well known along the Post road, appearing the next morning in the New York papers. "William Winthrop," he saw the printed words, "son of Endicott Winthrop, was arrested here this evening, with a young woman who refused to give her name, but who was recognized as Miss Beatrice Forbes, whose engagement to Ernest Peabody, the Reform candidate on the Independent ticket——"
And, of course, Peabody would blame her.
"If I have exceeded your speed limit," he said politely, "I shall be delighted to pay the fine. How much is it?"