Carver now helped the girl to mount his wheel, and then jumped into the saddle in front of her.
"Hold on to me tight—we're going to speed some!" said he, gaily, then he shot in the gas, and they were off for Riverhead, the limousine trailing in the dust close behind.
For a time the male prisoners eyed each other in sheepish fashion, but Mrs. Duke cried bitterly as the car skipped along. With her arms behind her she had no means of wiping the tear-drops that plowed ridges through the dust on her face.
"I don't see how I ever got into this dreadful affair!" she moaned.
"Shut up!" shouted Parkins sharply. "They can't do anything with us. That would ruin the girl's reputation."
"But that man Updyke!—how did you ever conceive the idea that you could frustrate that brute's plans?"
"What do you know about him?" snapped Parkins.
"I've seen him, and that's enough! Oh, such a face!—such strength of purpose!—such——"
"Cut it out I tell you—or you will lose your chance, as a woman, to say that you had no thought of breaking the law. The girl and I were eloping and you were along as a friend. Do you get that?"
"You are so wonderful, Mr. Parkins—indeed you are," sighed Mrs. Duke, as her tears slackened. "I knew it the moment I saw you, all bruised and torn. Certainly she was eloping with you, and now I remember how sweetly she talked about you as we walked along the beach. You had always been so kind to her father, and all that."