[CHAPTER IV.
MOTOR MATT’S DUTY.]
For Matt, in this queer taxicab tangle, one mystery was piling upon another. Joe McGlory, in a faster car than the “taxi,” had left New York after Matt and the girl had taken their departure. Joe might be with Mr. Random, but the girl had certainly made a misstatement when she said that the cowboy and the broker had hurried off in advance of the taxicab. But then, the girl had made many misstatements.
By the narrow margin of no more than thirty seconds, Matt had failed to reach the road in time to hail the touring car. Fate works with trifles, drawing her thread fine from the insignificant affairs of life.
The driver came unsteadily through the bushes and stood at Matt’s side, gazing toward the taxicab.
“What was you intendin’ to do?” he asked of Matt.
“I was thinking we could hail that automobile and, if the taxicab was too badly injured to proceed under its own power, we could have the machine towed to the nearest garage.”
“We won’t have any trouble findin’ a car to tow us—if we have to. If the machine ain’t too badly smashed, I’m goin’ to take you on to Rye.”
“Perhaps I’d better do the driving,” suggested Matt.
“Bosh! I’m all right for two or three weeks. The spells ain’t bad, but they’re mighty inconvenient.”
“I should say so!” exclaimed Matt. “That other passenger and myself might have been killed.”