For a moment the two gazed at each other defiantly. Then, without speaking, Victor Burnham turned on his heel and went into the house.
“He heard you, I am afraid!” murmured the girl.
“Just as well, if he did,” replied Stanley, with a smile. “He will know what to expect if he doesn’t behave himself.”
“Hello, Stan!” broke in the cheery tones of Clay Varron. “I’ve just heard the news.”
“What?” cried Stanley, half hoping that the news might be good for him. “They haven’t found the money in the lake, have they?”
“No, old man! I wish it was that. What I meant was that I’m pleased you are going to be in that race. Mr. Ranfelt and I are going to Buffalo with you. We want to see you do your trial. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Mind?” ejaculated Stanley. “It is the very thing I should have suggested, if I had thought you and Mr. Ranfelt would consent.”
“And I’m going, too,” put in Helen decidedly.
“So will I, if I may be permitted,” added the surly voice of Victor Burnham, as he stepped forward. “I’m told the Thunderbolt racer the company has ready is quite a traveler. I should like to see how you will handle it.”
“I will drive you over in my car, Stan, if you like,” said Clay, ignoring Burnham. “Mr. Ranfelt says he will go in his own car, and I suppose he will take Helen with him.”