"Well," he remarked, quizzically, "it's just as well that we know you are pretty."
"We could never discover it as you are now," added Charles Reid. "Can't see enough of your face to tell whether you are white or black."
The girl's red lips were pursed into a pout, which ungraciously hid her white teeth, as she considered the matter seriously.
"I think I'll take it off," she said at last.
"Don't," Curtis warned her. "On a good road The Green Dragon only hits the tall places."
"Tear your hair off," supplemented Reid. "When Jack lets her loose it's just a pszzzzt!-and wherever you're going you're there."
"Not on a night as dark as this?" protested the girl, quickly.
"I've got lights like twin locomotives," Curtis assured her, smilingly. "It's perfectly safe. Don't get nervous."
He tied on his own mask with its bleary goggles, while Reid did the same. The Green Dragon, a low, gasoline car of racing build, stood panting impatiently, awaiting them at a side door of the hotel. Curtis assisted Miss Melrose into the front seat and climbed in beside her, while Reid sat behind in the tonneau. There was a preparatory quiver, the car jerked a little and then began to move.
The three persons in it were Marguerite Melrose, an actress who had attracted attention in the West five years before by her great beauty and had afterwards, by her art, achieved a distinct place; Jack Curtis, a friend since childhood, when both lived in San Francisco and attended the same school, and Charles Reid, his chum, son of a mine owner at Denver.
The unexpected meeting of the three in Boston had been a source of mutual pleasure. It had been two years since they had seen one another in Denver, where Miss Melrose was playing. Now she was in Boston, pursuing certain vocal studies before returning West for her next season.
Reid was in Boston to lay siege to the heart of a young woman of society, Miss Elizabeth Dow, whom he first met in San Francisco. She was only nineteen years old, but despite this he had begun a siege and his ardor had never cooled, even after Miss Dow returned East. In Boston, he had heard, she looked with favor upon another man, Morgan Mason, poor but of excellent family, and frantically Reid had rushed, like Lochinvar out of the West, to find the rumor true.
Curtis was one who never had anything to do save seek excitement in a new and novel way. He had come East with Reid. They had been together constantly since their arrival in Boston. He was of a different type from Reid in that his wealth was distinctly a burden, a thing which left him with nothing to do, and opened illimitable possibilities of dissipation. The pace he led was one which caused other young men to pause and think.
Warm-hearted and perfectly at home with both Curtis and Reid, Miss Melrose, the actress, frequently took occasion to scold them. It was charming to be scolded by Miss Melrose, so much so in fact that it was worth while sinning again. Since she had appeared on the horizon Curtis had devoted a great deal of time to her; Reid had his own difficulties trying to make Miss Dow change her mind.
The Green Dragon with its three passengers ran slowly down from the Hotel Yarmouth, where Miss Melrose was stopping, toward the Common, twisting and winding tortuously through the crowd of vehicles. It was half-past six o'clock in the evening.
"Cut across here to Commonwealth Avenue," Miss Melrose suggested. She remembered something and her bright blue eyes sparkled beneath the disfiguring mask. "I know a delightful old-fashioned inn out this way. It would be an ideal place to stop for supper. I was there once five years ago when I was in Boston."
"How far?" asked Reid.
"Fifteen or twenty miles," was the reply.
"Right," said Curtis. "Here we go."
Soon after they were skimming along Commonwealth Avenue, which at that time of day is practically given over to automobilists, past the Vendome, the Somerset and on over the flat, smooth road. It was perfectly light now, because the electric lights were about them; but there was no moon above, and once in the country it would be dark going.
Curtis was intent on his machine; Reid was thoughtful for a time, but after awhile leaned over and talked to Miss Melrose.
"I heard something to-day that might interest you," he remarked.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Don MacLean is in Boston."
"I heard that," she replied, casually.
"Who is he?" asked Curtis.
"A man who is frantically in love with Marguerite," said Reid, with a smile.
"Charlie," the girl reproved, and a flush crept into her face. "It was never anything very serious."
Curtis looked at her curiously for a moment, then his eyes turned again to the road ahead.
"I don't suppose it's very serious if a man proposes to a girl seven times, is it?" Reid asked, banteringly.
"Did he do that?" asked Curtis, quickly.
"He merely made a fool of himself and me," replied the actress, with spirit, speaking to Curtis. "He was-in love with me, I suppose, but his family objected because I was on the stage and threatened to disinherit him, and all that sort of thing. So-it ended it. Not that I ever considered the matter seriously anyway," she added.
There was silence again as The Green Dragon plunged into the darkness of the country, the two brilliant lights ahead showing every dip and rise in the road. After awhile Curtis spoke again.
"He's now in Boston?"
"Yes," said the girl. "At least, I've heard so," she added, quickly.
Then the conversation ran into other channels, and Curtis, busy with the great machine and the innumerable levers which made it do this or do that or do the other, dropped out of it. Reid and Miss Melrose talked on, but the whirr of the car as it gained speed made talking unsatisfactory and finally the girl gave herself up to the pure delight of high speed; a dangerous pleasure which sets the nerves atingle and makes one greedy for more.
"Do you smell gasoline?" Curtis asked suddenly, turning to the others.
"Believe I do," said Reid.
"Confound it! If I've sprung a leak in my tank it will be the deuce," Curtis growled amiably.
"Do you think you've got enough to get to the inn?" asked Miss Melrose. "It can't be more than five or six miles now."
"I'll run on until we stop," said Curtis. "We might be able to stir up some along here somewhere. I suppose they are prepared for autos."
At last lights showed ahead, many lights glimmering through the trees.
"I suppose that's the inn now," said Curtis. "Is it?" he asked of the girl.
"Really, I don't know, but I have an impression that it isn't. The one I mean seems farther out than this and it seems to me we passed one on the way. However, I don't remember very well."
"We'll stop and get some gasoline, anyhow," said Curtis.
Puffing and snorting odorously The Green Dragon came to a standstill in front of an old house which stood back twenty feet or more from the road. It was lighted up, and from inside they could hear the cheery rattle of dishes and see white-aproned waiters moving about. Above the door was a sign, "Monarch Inn."
"Is this the place?" asked Reid.
"Oh, no," replied Miss Melrose. "The inn I spoke of was back from the road three or four hundred feet through a grove."
Curtis leaped out, and evidently dropped something from his pocket as he did so, for he stopped and felt around for a moment. Then he examined his tank.
"It's a leak," he said, in irritation. "I haven't more than half a gallon left. These people must have some gasoline. Wait a few minutes."