CHAPTER XVII
WHAT HAPPENED ON THE ROAD
About half an hour after Ashton-Kirk had left the Vale mansion, a
Maillard car drew up before the door. As it did so, an Italian laborer
arose from the curb not far away where he had been comfortably seated
with his back against a tree; then throwing his arms wide in a
luxurious yawn, he started leisurely down the street.
Five minutes later, a veiled, dust-coated female figure descended the
step; the driver of the Maillard was dismissed, and Miss Vale
composedly took his place at the wheel. As the car started forward,
the gauntleted hands guided it firmly; the steady eyes were set
straight ahead as the lever was pushed first to one speed and then
another.
And as the rapid pulse of the motor was borne along the quiet avenue,
the Italian laborer calmly appeared from around a corner, pushing a
powerful-looking motor cycle before him. Another moment and the
machine was sounding its wild fusillade; the Italian sped away in the
same direction as the Maillard, his battered soft hat set jauntily
upon the back of his head, his gay-colored neckkerchief streaming in
the wind.
The car kept to the avenue for a long time; but finally in the far
suburbs it made a sharp turn to the left and a few miles further on
shot into a broad highway that ran parallel with the railroad.
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