“All right! Come!”
Stanley slid along the seat from behind the wheel, and immediately Karl was in his place, recovering the slight divergence of the car that had been caused by the change of guiding hands.
It was now that Stanley Downs had a good view of the girl’s face.
It could not be said that she was not frightened. But certainly her apprehension had not interfered with the masterly manner in which she managed the steering wheel. She was staring straight ahead of her, and, as she whirled around the quarter-mile bend, she endeavored to get the car headed up the road.
But there was another hairpin curve—called so because the two roads ran almost parallel, like the legs of a hairpin—and the car would have to swing completely around, running in the opposite direction, if it were to avoid the lake.
“She can’t make it!” exclaimed Karl.
Stanley Downs said nothing. Karl had been obliged to let the Fanchon push a little ahead in rounding the bend, to avoid a collision, and Stanley was standing on the seat by the side of the chauffeur, balancing himself perilously on the leather cushion, with his eyes fixed on the girl.
He motioned with his arm to Karl to draw closer to the other car.
They were within a hundred yards of the edge of the lake, and charging straight toward it.
As Karl brought the two cars within a yard of each other, Stanley leaped across the gap and into the front seat of the Fanchon.