She hoped
that he did not think she had a habit of going off on such journeys with
the chauffeur. Even though the man at her side was officially her enemy
she resented being put into a position that would cheapen her in
his eyes.
"No," she replied, "they knew nothing about it."
Hoff drove on in silence. She had feared that he might ask her more
embarrassing questions, might insist on knowing where she had been going
when the accident occurred. A panic seized her. What if he should ask
her? What could she tell him? He had a masterful way about him. If he
took it into his head to make her confess she realized that she would
have a struggle to keep from telling him everything. She made up her
mind that she would not, she dare not answer any more questions.
When he spoke again she was relieved to hear a suggestion instead of a
query.
"When we have crossed the ferry," he said, "you can put on a dust coat
to hide your costume, and I will send you home in a taxi. Will that be
all right?"
"That will do nicely," she replied, gratefully conscious that he was
endeavoring to plan so that her part in the afternoon's adventures need
not become public.
Nevertheless she waited nervously while Hoff and the doctor carried Dean
into the doctor's home. What if the doctor's suspicions should be
aroused, and he should insist on knowing all the details of the
accident? To her astonishment the doctor seemed to accept Hoff's brief
recital of finding an injured motorcyclist on the road without question.
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