“She is unbeatable—as she stands to-night,” he answered.
He went out of the garage, boarded a street car at a near corner, and sent his name up to a certain room in a prominent hotel.
“Mr. Burnham is out,” announced the clerk, when the telephone had failed to draw a response from the room.
Swartz frowned impatiently. Then he hastily wrote his name on a card and handed it to the clerk. On the card he had also written: “Call me up right away. Important. Trouble.”
“See that Mr. Burnham gets this card as soon as he returns, please,” he requested, as he turned away from the desk.
He strode up and down the spacious lobby several times, thinking, and muttering to himself. What he said was: “The Thunderbolt is unbeatable. I said it and I sincerely meant it. Unbeatable—unless——Well, that will be up to Burnham.”
He walked out of the hotel, still thinking and muttering.
CHAPTER VII.
A Reply by Wire.
THE trial of the Thunderbolt was an entire success. As Stanley Downs had said, the car was tuned to perfection, while he, the driver, was as good as his machine. The two worked together like one organism.