“That’s so.”

“What time is it now?” Cora asked as, with hands firmly gripping the wheel, she leaned forward to peer down the road.  She could neither see nor hear the train now.

“It’s nine-fifty-five,” replied the chauffeur.  “The train is due at New City at ten-fifteen.”

“Twenty minutes yet.  I’m sure we can make it.”

Cora made that declaration with her cheeks flushing and her bright eyes ablaze with excitement.

“Won’t you, let me take the wheel?” asked Paul.  “I am afraid that this heavy driving is too much for you.”

“Oh, no, indeed!  This is my race, you know.  I want to beat him.”

She looked at Paul frankly.

“Very well.  Only don’t distress yourself too much—­on my account.”

“Don’t worry.  I love this.  At what place in New City do you wish to go?”

“Directly in the center, next to the bank.  The office of the Whitehall Motor Company.”

“Then we’ll take this road,” decided the girl.  “I’m sure it cuts through a park, and will bring us out right at the center of the city.”

“It does, and it’s the nearest way.  You’re getting to be quite a driver.”

“I mean to be.  Hark, there’s the train again!”

“Yes, and we’re ahead of it!” exclaimed Paul as he caught sight of the cars.  “We’ve gained on them!”

“But they’re going down grade, and we have a hill to climb,” spoke Cora a little despairingly.  But she would not give up.  On and on rushed the car.  There was but five minutes left, and the railroad; station was very close to the building where the automobile concern was located.  Sid’s chances were very good—­Paul’s not quite so much so.

“We’ll have to be a little careful now,” Paul reminded her as they swung around a curve.  “We’ll have to go slow through the city.”

“Yes, but I have been counting on that.  We still have a few minutes.  Oh, isn’t it a pity that a motor isn’t like a horse?  When you get a machine going just so fast it can’t go any faster, but a horse can always be depended on for a spurt.”

“Yes,” answered Paul quietly.  He was busy thinking.

“How many minutes lift now?” asked Cora.

“Two,” was the grim answer.

With keen eyes, that took note of every obstruction or vehicle that might block her, Cora drove her car on.  Around corners, and through busy streets she piloted it.  They were but a block from the center of the town.

“There’s the train,” spoke Paul quietly as the engine pulled into the station.

“And we’re at the building of the Whitehall auto concern!” exclaimed Cora triumphantly a few seconds later, as she guided the car up to the curb.  “Hurry!” she called to Paul.  As if he needed to be told that!

He leaped from the car and ran across the pavement to the office.  As he entered the door Sid Wilcox, coming leisurely from the direction of the station, saw him.  Sid started, and then, with a quick motion, hurried after Paul.  But the chauffeur was ahead of him, and the door slammed shut in the face of the owner of the Streak.