the case he would like nothing better. Then, why not? What had he or
his self-respect to dread from a trip with this accommodating dude? He
would hardly sandbag him, and were he--Harrington grinned inwardly at
the cunning thought--intending to have the machine break down in an
inaccessible spot, and leave him stranded, what difference would it
make? His article was too late already for the evening papers, and he
would take excellent care to see that nothing should interfere with
its appearance the following morning, for at a pinch he was within
walking distance of the city. The thought of such an attempt to muzzle
the liberty of the press was rather an incentive than otherwise, for
it savored of real adventure and indicated that a moral issue was
involved.

While he thus reflected he appeared not to have heard the observation.
Meanwhile the automobile was running swiftly and smoothly, as though
its owner were not averse to have his guest perceive what a superb
machine it was.

"What make?" asked the reporter, wishing to show himself affable, yet
a man of the world. He had come to the conclusion that if the
invitation were repeated he would accept it.

His companion told him, and as though he divined that the inquiry had
been intended to convey admiration, added, "She's going now only at
about half her speed."

Harrington grinned inwardly again. "Springes to catch woodcock!" he
said to himself, quoting Shakespeare, then went on to reflect in his
own vernacular: "The chap is trying to bribe me, confound him! Well,
here goes!" Thereupon he said aloud, for they were approaching the