After a moment he heard the engine of an automobile, and saw
a woman--barely discernible--step into the car. As it started forward he
staked everything on one bold move, and won, his reward being a narrow
sitting space in the rear of the car, hidden from its occupants by the
tonneau. One mile, two miles, three miles they charged through the
night, and still he clung on. At last there came relief.
"That's the place, where the lights are--just ahead."
There was no mistaking that voice raised above the clamor of the engine.
The car slackened speed, and Mr. Grimm dropped off and darted behind
some convenient bushes. And the first thing he did there was to light a
match, and read what was written on the slip of paper pinned to his
coat. It was, simply:
"My Dear Mr. Grimm:
"By the time you read this the compact will have been signed, and your
efforts to prevent it, splendid as they were, futile. It is a tribute to
you that it was unanimously agreed that you must be accounted for at
the time of the signing, hence the drugging in the restaurant; it was
only an act of kindness that I should come here to see that all was well
with you, and leave the door open behind me.
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