CHAPTER V
BEATRICE BRUNSWICK'S PLOT
The chauffeur to whom the order was given that the taxicab be driven to the Church of the Transfiguration, proved to be an adept and skillful driver; one of those who can exceed the speed limit and then slow down his machine so quickly and quietly at the sight of a bluecoat that he inevitably escapes arrest for his transgression. As a consequence, there was very little time for conversation between these two apparently mad young persons during the journey between the opera-house and the church.
Little as there was, the greater part of it was passed in silence. But when they were quite near to their destination, Beatrice spoke up quickly and rather sharply to her companion.
"Roderick, have you for a moment supposed that I have taken you seriously in this mad proposition you have made to me, to-night?" she demanded. "Surely, you don't think that, do you?"
Duncan stared at her, speechless. Then, with a vehemence that can better be imagined than described he exclaimed, half-angrily, half-resentfully:
"Then, in God's name, Beatrice, why are we here? and why should we go to the church at all?"
"Were you serious about it?" she asked.
"I certainly was—and am, now!"
"Foolish boy!" she exclaimed, laughing with nervous apprehension. What more she might have said on this point was interrupted by the skidding of the taxicab as they were whirled around the corner of Twenty-ninth street.