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Updated: May 25, 2025
At the end of the bridge a straggler struck a match and flung it lightly in the river, the disc of his cigar a fire-point in the shadows. The car rolled on again and halted. A stocky young man behind the fire-point emerged from the darkness and climbed briskly into the tonneau. "Hello, Hunch," said Carl. "'Lo!" said Hunch and stared intently at the robe.
"I'm not sure if I ought to have spoken to you, or have come with you, after all." To save his life, Hugh could not have helped laughing, though it was evidently a matter of serious importance. "What, do you think we ought to have a chaperon?" he asked. "Paul's in the tonneau, you know; and he's a most discreet chap." "I don't know what a chaperon is," said Rosemary.
And, on a sudden, Carshaw was aware of a shouting, though he could not make out the words. It was Mick the Wolf, who had clambered into the tonneau and was bellowing: "Pull up, you Pull up, or I'll get you sure!" Nor was the threat a waste of words, for he had hardly shouted when again a bullet flicked past Carshaw's head.
"Mumsey Sweetheart, if you want me dreadfully you'll send for me," she whispered, stricken for a moment by the realization that the parting was for a very long time. Then, though her heart was almost breaking within her, Mrs. Travis managed to laugh lightly. "Need you of course we won't need you! Climb in, darling," and she almost lifted the girl into the tonneau, where Mrs.
Blenheim's face was adamant, though my suggestion had produced a not entirely enlivening effect on his two friends. "You see, Mr. Bayne, in this business the risks will be mostly yours. There will be no flights of stairs to dart up and no tables to over turn and no candles to extinguish; you will sit in the tonneau with a man beside you, a very watchful man, and a pistol against your side.
"I wonder if you can help me put on a tire?" The lank little host regarded him quietly, then looked at the women and drew his hand across his mouth. "Wal, I dunno," he answered. "I've set a tire and I've set a hen, but I wouldn't like to tell ye what was hatched." The girl in the tonneau laughed in frank delight a musical outburst that flattered the station host tremendously.
She comes down two inches in common-sense walking shoes, so of course hills are not for her, now that she's trying to be as beautiful as she feels; but the Prince persuaded her to sit in the tonneau of his car, as it crawled up the steep white road behind Mr. Barrymore and the Panhard, so slowly that he could pace beside her.
"In the distance I can see the car I ordered to come and fetch me. There is a passenger a man in the tonneau. I am wondering who he is." "Some one to whom your man has given a lift, perhaps," she suggested. He shook his head. "I have another feeling perhaps I should say an apprehension. It is some one who brings news." "Political or domestic?" "Neither," he answered.
It was the little one who murdered him the one they called 'Jimmie' and 'The Oskaloosa Kid. The big one drove the car his name was 'Terry. After they killed him I tried to jump out I had been sitting in front with Terry and then they dragged me over into the tonneau and later the Oskaloosa Kid tried to kill me too, and threw me out." Bridge heard the boy at his side gulp. The girl went on.
I've a notion to hug you." "Tut, tut!" says he. "Such a bad example to set the neighbors! Besides, this young man may object. He has a Y. M. C. A. certificate as a first-class chauffeur." That's the way he springs on Aunt Zenobia an imported landaulet, this year's model, all complete even to monogrammed laprobes and a morocco vanity case in the tonneau.
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