Greg sped down the incline, made a wide turn into the Drive and headed down-town. As they circled they saw the other cab gathering headway. It had a more powerful engine than Greg's, and was in better condition. It ought to have overtaken Greg easily, but as they straightened out in the Drive it did not do so, but contented itself with maintaining a certain distance. Greg slowed down, and the following cab did likewise. "What's their game?" Greg asked himself a little anxiously.

He rapped on the glass behind him to attract Amy's attention. She opened the door.

"All right back there?" he asked cheerily.

"I—I guess so," was the somewhat shaky reply.

"Let down the front glass and we can talk better."

She did so.

"Have you got the little black book?" he asked eagerly.

"No. I was surprised by his return. I dropped it in the back of the piano."

"No one saw you drop it there,—Bianca?"

"No, it's safe enough; if we can only find a way to get it out again. Where can we go now?"

"To the yard."

"He will follow us there."

"Let him. We have plenty of friends there. He'll get a warm reception."

They passed a policeman standing at the curb who glanced at them casually as they passed. They were not exceeding the speed limit now, or at least not by much. The other cab was a short block behind. Amy, who continually glanced back through the little window, gasped suddenly.

"Oh, they're stopping! ... They're picking him up."

"Who, the policeman?" said Greg. "By God! de Socotra has a nerve!" he added grimly.

"They're coming on again! Oh, faster! faster!"

Greg gave her all she would take. The old flivver roared and rocked down the Drive, and the few pedestrians homeward bound stopped and stared at the phenomenon. Most of the motor traffic was bound in the opposite direction, and on his side of the road Greg had a clear passage. The bright round globes flashed past, the cars they passed seemed to be standing still. Greg prayed that his old tires would support the strain. The flivver had long ago seen her best days, and like an old horse she was scarcely making the speed that the violence of her action would indicate. Thirty miles was about her limit.

Through the little window in the back Amy kept watch on their pursuers. "They're gaining on us!" she said despairingly.

And indeed the bigger car drew up on them with ease, once they let her out. De Socotra was leaning far out of the window urging the driver on. The policeman rode in front. Foot-passengers becoming infected with the excitement of the chase started to run after, but were soon out-distanced. Motor cars bound up-town slowed down, turned and joined in the chase.

The pursuing car little by little drew abreast on the outside of the flivver. The driver pinched Greg into the curb as close as he dared, hoping to force him to stop. No more than a foot separated the running-boards of the two flying vehicles. Amy shrank back into the darkest corner. The water was now boiling furiously out of the radiator of the flivver, and Greg knew she must soon begin to miss and slacken speed. But he held her to it.

The second car was now running wheel to wheel with Greg's, and the policeman leaning out was almost able to put a hand on his shoulder. "Stop, you!" he commanded.

At that moment Greg saw an opening, and he obeyed the order quicker than they looked for. Throwing out his clutch and applying brakes, he let the other car shoot ahead. Turning out behind it, he darted up a side street.

Their pursuers carried on a hundred feet or more had to turn around in the Drive and come back. Cars bound up-town got in their way. Greg might have succeeded in giving them the slip altogether had it not been for the other cars which had taken up the chase out of sheer excitement. These cars were far enough in the rear to follow Greg directly into the side street and to point the way to the policeman when he came up.

Greg twisted and turned to the best of his ability; off the Drive the streets were deserted; into West End Avenue, into another side street, into the Drive again. A whole string of cars was stretched out behind him now. Rarely had the sporty chauffeurs such a chance to defy the speed laws. It was like pandemonium sweeping through those astonished quiet streets. The little flivver was like a mangy fox pursued by a pack of sleek hounds.

Greg's tricks were of no avail. Having lost the advantage of his first turn, he could not shake them off. Meanwhile his radiator had almost boiled dry, and the exhausted flivver was missing badly and ever slowing down.

"No go!" said Greg grimly at last. "I'll only melt down her bearings if I don't stop."

He quietly drew up beside the curb on Riverside.

"Mind you are to say nothing!" Amy swiftly whispered. "You are just a cabman that I happened to pick up!"

"I can't let him carry you back!" Greg protested scowling.

"You must!" she cried with desperate earnestness. "If you don't do what I tell you, you will force me to take his part against you!"

"How can I see you in his power!"

"You needn't fear for me," she said proudly. "He dare not injure me. I am not afraid of him!"

Very unwillingly, Greg gave in.

Their pursuers were upon them. The policeman, de Socotra, Abanez and the fourth man leaped from the second cab and ran up. The policeman laid a heavy hand on Greg's shoulder and drew him to the pavement. De Socotra flung open the door of the flivver. Within twenty seconds it seemed as if a crowd of hundreds had gathered.

"My poor, poor child!" cried de Socotra in a heart-breaking voice. "How could you act so!"

Amy made no reply.

"Don't you know me?"

"I know you," she said quietly.

He drew her gently out of the cab. "Come home with me, dear," he murmured, but not so softly but that the crowd could hear and be impressed. "You'll be all right in the morning. Mamma is waiting for you."

Amy quietly submitted. Greg was boiling inwardly, but he loyally obeyed her command to say nothing.

De Socotra drew Amy's arm tenderly under his own and faced the policeman and the crowd. "She is not herself," he said in a deprecating, appealing voice. "It is a nervous break-down. See how she ran out without hat or coat in such weather. She didn't know what she was doing."

The crowd murmured in respectful sympathy.

De Socotra looked for the cab that had brought him. "Come, dear, let us go home."

"What will I do with this fellow, sir?" asked the policeman. "Don't you want to lay a complaint against him?"

"Oh, I don't think so," said de Socotra, determined to play the kindly gentleman to the end. "I don't suppose he knew what he was doing." Then for the first time he appeared to recognize Greg. "Hello!" he said, "aren't you the man who drove me earlier this evening?"

There was nothing to be gained by denying it. Greg nodded.

"How did you get in on this?" asked De Socotra.

Since he was forced to play the unwelcome part, Greg played it as well as he could. "Well, after I filled up my tank," he said slyly, "I went on to the address you gave me. Something seemed to be the matter, and I thought maybe you'd want me again. You treated me liberal. Then the young lady came running out. I didn't know she had anything to do with you. She said she'd pay me anything I asked if I'd get her away from there. I thought she was in distress-like."

Greg was comforted by the sight of a gleam of approval in Amy's eyes. Whether or not de Socotra really believed this yarn he could not tell from his face.

He feigned to believe it. "Too much melodrama!" he said indulgently. "Let him go, officer."

But the policeman hated to relinquish his capture. "Why didn't you stop when I first told you?" he demanded.

Greg put on a hang-dog air. "Ah, she said he was after her, that he wanted to do her some hurt."

"Her own father!" put in de Socotra with a shocked air.

"You saw me!" said the indignant officer. "You ought to know I wouldn't stand for no rough stuff!"

"Well, I was excited-like," muttered Greg.

"I had ought to take you in for speeding if for nothing else! You ought to lose your license for that!"

"Please let him go, officer," said de Socotra magnanimously. "The poor fellow's livelihood depends on his license. I wouldn't want him to suffer through the misfortune of my poor girl."

Greg did not believe that de Socotra's suspicions were not aroused as to his real part in the affair; but de Socotra was not any more anxious for a police-court examination tha............