"No; you may take me to our destination, Cedarcrest."
They drove on in silence for a considerable time after that, and, as soon as they were in the country, on less-frequented roads, Morton increased the speed of his roadster until they were flying along the highway in utter and absolute defiance of the statutes. When they presently arrived at a turn within a few miles of their destination, a turn that would have taken them directly to the house they sought, Morton did not move the steering-wheel of the car, but kept on, straight ahead, and with ever increasing speed.
Patricia knew the road very well indeed; she had been over it many times, and now she called out to her companion:
"You have taken the wrong road. You should have gone around that last turn."
Morton did not reply, or attempt to do so. He seemed not to have heard her.
"Won't you please slow down a little?" she asked, after another moment; and the question came somewhat tremulously, because, strange to say, Patricia was just a little frightened by the circumstance that now confronted her.
Again, Morton made no reply, nor did he comply with her request, and the car flew on and on, while Patricia tried to collect her thoughts, and to determine what were best for her to do toward restraining this head-strong companion of hers, who now seemed like a runaway colt that has taken the bit in its teeth, and has found the strength to defy opposition.
"Richard Morton!" she exclaimed sharply, touching his arm, tentatively. "Why don't you answer me? What are you trying to do? Where are you taking me?"
For just an instant, he flashed his eyes into hers; then he replied, grimly:
"I am taking you for a good ride. We'll steer around to Cedarcrest by another road, presently."