tiously, as he shot him toward the waggonette. "An' ye can thank the saints for a whole skin. We ain't neither of us left our seats to-night—d'ye hear?"
To Billy's amazement, Peter jumped into the runabout, and fell asleep. A second later Mr. Carter loomed beside them.
"Peter? William?"
His tone brought them to attention with a jerk. Peter straightened his hat and blinked.
"What, sir? Yes, sir! Beg pardon, sir; I must 'a' been asleep."
Mr. Carter leaped to the seat beside him.
"Drive to the police station," he ordered, in a tone that sent apprehensive chills chasing up Billy's back.
"Yes, sir. Whoa, Trixy! Back, b-a-c-k. Get up!" he cut her with the whip, and they rolled from the circle of flaring torches into the outer darkness.
"She's a trifle skittish, sir," said Peter, in his old-time conversational tone. "The noise o'
