This time it
seemed to be a race between two automobiles. They were tearing
along, and the sound of the rapidly working cylinders was most
real. The rearmost was rapidly overhauling that in front. Imagine
our surprise as it crept up on the other to see the driver rise,
whip out a pistol, and fire point blank at the other as he dashed
ahead, and the picture stopped.
A suppressed scream escaped Violet Winslow. It was too much like
what had happened to Mortimer Warrington for her to repress the
shudder that swept over her, and an involuntary movement toward
him to make sure that it was not real.
Still Garrick did not move from his post at the galvanometer. He
was taking no chances. He had us thrilled, tense, and he meant to
take advantage to the full in reading the truth in the dramatic
situation he had so skilfully created.
Another picture started almost on the heels of the last. It was of
the robbery of a safe. Then came another, a firebug at work in
starting a conflagration.
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