The message had
strung her suddenly taut, as if a crisis had arisen in which willy-nilly
she must take a hand.
So, groping for the relief of action, some method of spanning that nine
hours' wait, her eye fell upon a card tucked beside the telephone case.
She held it between, finger and thumb, her brows puckered.
TAXIS AND TOURING CARS
Anywhere . . . Anytime
She took down the receiver again and asked for Seymour 9X.
"Western Taxi," a man's voice drawled.
"I want to reach Roaring Hot Springs in the shortest time possible," she
told him rather breathlessly. "Can you furnish me a machine and a
reliable chauffeur?"
"Roaring Springs?" he repeated. "How many passengers?"
"One. Myself."
"Just a minute."
She heard a faint burble of talk away at the other end of the wire. Then
the same voice speaking crisply.
"We gotta big six roadster, and a first-class driver. It'll cost you
seventy-five dollars--in advance."
"Your money will be waiting for you here," she answered calmly. "How
soon can you bring the car around to the Hotel Granada?"
"In ten minutes, if you say so."
"Say twenty minutes, then."
"All right."
She dressed herself, took the elevator down to the lobby, instructed the
night clerk to have a maid pack her trunk and send it by express to
Hopyard, care of St. Allwoods Hotel on the lake. Then she walked out to
the broad-stepped carriage entrance.
A low-hung long-hooded, yellow car stood there, exhaust purring faintly.
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