stop. So unexpected and startling was the shock that the reporter
sprang from the car and in his nervous annoyance at once vented the
hasty conclusion at which he arrived in the words: "I see; this is a
trap, and you are a modern highwayman whose stunt will make good
Sunday reading in cold print." He wore a sarcastic smile, and his
sharp eyes gleamed like a ferret's.

Dryden regarded him humorously with his steady gaze. "Gently there;
it's only a tire gone. Do you suspect me of trying to trifle with the
sacred liberties of the press?"

"I certainly did, sir. It looks very much like it."

"Then you agree that I chose a very inappropriate place for my
purpose. 'The Old Homestead' there is furnished with a telephone, a
livery-stable, and all the modern protections against highway robbery.
Besides, there is a cold chicken and a bottle of choice claret in the
basket with which to supplement the larder of our host of the inn. We
will take luncheon while my chauffeur is placing us on an even keel
again, and no time will be lost. You will even have ten minutes in
which to put pen to paper while the table is being laid."

Harrington as a nervous man was no less promptly generous in his
impulses when convinced of error than he was quick to scent out a
hostile plot. "I beg your pardon, Mr. Dryden. I see I was mistaken."
He thrust out a lean hand by way of amity. "Can't I help?"

"Oh, no, thank you. My man will attend to everything."

"You see I got the idea to begin with and then the explosion following