"Why, I———"
"Stop!" she insisted, vehemently. "You've got to! Go back!"
"Oh, Glory!"
The little car was between the entrance posts, but Walter backed it out, avoiding a collision with an impressive machine which swerved away from them and passed on toward the porte-cochère, showing a man's face grinning at the window as it went by. "Flivver runabout got the wrong number!" he said.
"Did he see us?" Alice cried.
"Did who see us?"
"Harvey Malone—in that foreign coupé."
"No; he couldn't tell who we were under this top." Walter assured her as he brought the little car to a standstill beside the curbstone, out in the street. "What's it matter if he did, the big fish?"
Alice responded with a loud sigh, and sat still.
"Well, want to go on back?" Walter inquired. "You bet I'm willing!"
"No."
"Well, then, what's the matter our drivin' on up to the porte-cochère? There's room for me to park just the other side of it."
