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Updated: June 24, 2025
With a grinding of gravel the racing-car leaped into the night, its ruby rear lamp winking in farewell, its tiny siren answering the great siren of the prison in jeering notes of joy and victory. Fred had supposed that at the last moment the younger convict proposed to leap to the running-board, but instead the stranger remained motionless. Fred shouted impotently after the flying car.
If you think an automobile race is an easy thing to manage, try it. Every man who drives a racing-car has a coloratura soprano beaten to death for temperament. Then every racing-car has quirky spells; there's the local committee to propitiate; the track to look after; and if that isn't enough, there's the promotion itself, the advertising. That's my stunt the advertising."
"Hello!" exclaimed Dr. Marshall, leaning forward. "Sounds like the exhaust of a pretty heavy car. I didn't imagine any one would drive that cañon road after dark." "Unusual," said Stone, getting to his feet. "Some one in a hurry. I'll turn on the porch-light and defy the mosquitoes." With a leonine roar and a succeeding clatter of empty cylinders, an immense racing-car stopped at the gate below.
He interrupted her. "I was wrong," he confessed. "Forgive me. You see, my head was a little turned. Some one did deliberately fire at me, and I believe it was from a grey racing-car. I couldn't see who was driving it and it was out of sight almost at once." "But I never heard of such a thing!" she exclaimed. "Why on earth should they fire at you? You haven't any enemies, have you?"
Exactly as the published narratives related, he toiled not at all, he spun nothing but excuses, he arrayed himself in sartorial glory, and drove a yellow racing-car beyond the speed limit. It was all true, only incomplete. Kirk Anthony's father had even better reasons for his disapproval of the young man's behavior than appeared.
Spoken to, she replied in monosyllables in a carefully sweet tone. The young man's name was Jasper McCutcheon. It developed that Jasper owned an old racing-car which he kept in the Bailey garage, and he and Tish went out to look it over. They very politely asked us all to go along, but Bettina refusing, Aggie and I sat with her and looked at the moon.
Clinging to the supports of the stairway, he addressed Lanyard in accents of blended suspicion and respect. "Lis'n, boss: is this all right, on the level, now?" "Absolutely, unless that racing-car catches up with us, in which case you'll have a dead man myself on your hands." "Well ... we don't wanna lose our jobs, that's all." "You won't unless I lose my life." "Anything you'd like me to do?"
At the hour of the day which he had selected the club-house was empty, and he had just resigned himself to a solitary game, when, with a whirr and a rattle, a grey racing-car drove up, and from it emerged the same long young man whom, a couple of days earlier, he had seen wriggle out from underneath the same machine.
And she guessed rightly that it was due to the man whom he had so ungrudgingly nursed. "I'm glad you are going to Lynn, to be with Mr. Hambleton," she said at last. "As long as he is your friend, I shall be your friend, too, and never uneasy. You may count on that. And now will you do me another kindness?" "I'll put that old racing-car in order, if that's what you mean. Of course."
I drive my racing-car at ninety miles, I play polo, I go up in Scotty's aeroplane whenever I get a chance, I can refuse to take a drink when I think I've had enough, and if that doesn't prove that I've got courage I'd like to know what it does prove. But I'm not a fighting man. Nobody would ever be afraid of me. There isn't a German on earth who would run if he saw me charging toward him.
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