Carl's experience proved that the hostile drivers were organized, and that Sercomb and his friends had prejudiced some of the other chauffeurs against him.
Ralph Sercomb was unscrupulous. He felt that he had good reason to hate Matt, and to try to play even with him, and he would go to any length in carrying out his despicable schemes.
Motor Matt had for years been eager to make good as a racing-driver. He was at home with a gasoline-motor, and speed, to him, was its highest expression of power. The race for the Borden cup offered him a chance to enter the racing field, and he was not the one to turn back from the goal simply because he was encountering a few difficulties at the start.
"I'll get into that race," he muttered to himself resolutely, "and I'll make good."
And with that resolve and conviction he fell asleep.
Next morning he was up early. Arousing Carl, they both got into their clothes and went down to breakfast.
Colonel Plympton had his office in a building on Sixteenth Street. Following breakfast, Matt started to have his interview with the colonel. Carl was left behind at the hotel.
As Matt turned into the office building, some one brushed past him, through the door. Matt had only a casual glance at the form, but it seemed so familiar that he turned back to look after the man.
To his surprise, he found the fellow turning for a glance at him. It was Ralph Sercomb.
There was a grim, mocking smile on Sercomb's face. He did not stop, but passed hurriedly on and lost himself in the crowd.