The Chase of the Golden Plate by Jacques Futrelle Read Free Book Online Page A

do lots of things people don’t know I do,” he replied. “Are those lights still there?”
    â€œNo, thank goodness!”
    The Burglar touched a lever with his left hand and the whir of the machine became less pronounced. After a moment it began to slow down. The Girl noticed it and looked at him with new apprehension.
    â€œOh, we’re stopping!” she exclaimed.
    â€œI know it.”
    They ran on for a few hundred feet; then the Burglar set the brake and, after a deal of jolting, the car stopped. He leaped out and ran around behind. As the Girl watched him uneasily there came a sudden crash and the auto trembled a little.
    â€œWhat is it?” she asked quickly.
    â€œI smashed that tail lamp,” he answered. “They can see it, and it’s too easy for them to follow.”
    He stamped on the shattered fragments in the road, then came around to the side to climb in again, extending his left hand to the Girl.
    â€œQuick, give me your hand,” he requested.
    She did so wonderingly and he pulled himself into the seat beside her with a perceptible effort. The car shivered, then started on again, slowly at first, but gathering speed each moment. The Girl was staring at her companion curiously, anxiously.
    â€œAre you hurt?” she asked at last.
    He did not answer at the moment, not until the car had regained its former speed and was hurtling headlong through the night.
    â€œMy right arm’s out of business,” he explained briefly, then: “I got that second bullet in the shoulder.”
    â€œOh, Dick, Dick,” she exclaimed, “and you hadn’t said anything about it! You need assistance!”
    A sudden rush of sympathy caused her to lay her hands again on his left arm. He shook them off roughly with something like anger in his manner.
    â€œDon’t do that!” he commanded for the third time. “You’ll make me smash hell out of this car.”
    Startled by the violence of his tone, she recoiled dumbly, and the car swept on. As before, the Burglar looked back from time to time, but the lights did not reappear. For a long time the Girl was silent and finally he glanced at her.
    â€œI beg your pardon,” he said humbly. “I didn’t mean to speak so sharply, but—but it’s true.”
    â€œIt’s really of no consequence,” she replied coldly. “I am sorry—very sorry.”
    â€œThank you,” he replied.
    â€œPerhaps it might be as well for you to stop the car and let me out,” she went on after a moment.
    The Burglar either didn’t hear or wouldn’t heed. The dim lights of a small village rose up before them, then faded away again; a dog barked lonesomely beside the road. The streaming lights of their car revealed a tangle of crossroads just ahead, offering a definite method of shaking off pursuit. Their car swerved widely, and the Burglar’s attention was centred on the road ahead.
    â€œDoes your arm pain you?” asked the Girl at last timidly.
    â€œNo,” he replied shortly. “It’s a sort of numbness. I’m afraid I’m losing blood, though.”
    â€œHadn’t we better go back to the village and see a doctor?”
    â€œNot this evening,” he responded promptly in a tone, which she did not understand. “I’ll stop somewhere soon and bind it up.”
    At last, when the village was well behind, the car came to a dark little road, which wandered off aimlessly through a wood, and the Burglar slowed down to turn into it. Once in the shelter of the overhanging branches they proceeded slowly for a hundred yards or more, finally coming to a standstill.
    â€œWe must do it here,” he declared.
    He leaped from the car, stumbled and fell. In an instant the Girl was beside him. The reflected light from the auto showed her dimly that he was trying to rise, showed her the pallor of his face where the chin below the mask was