in its hollow eyes, and as I peered back at the white face which seemed to be floating in space I knew that it was Bud Griswold's face that I had seen again.
"Get me out o' here!" I gasped to Wendy Washburn as he held the street door open for me.
It was an altogether unnecessary remark, for he was already doing exactly what I had commanded him to do. I scarcely noticed him, in fact, when he stopped short and stared about in the driving rain.
"My car's gone!" I heard him gasp.
"What difference does it make?" I rather stupidly asked, for my mind, just at that moment, wasn't on automobiles.
"It means that we'll have to take a taxicab," he said with a short laugh, as he linked his free arm in mine and we started westward over the wet sidewalk, with heads down, against the driving rain. But I kept looking back to make sure that a ghostly face wasn't floating in the air just over my left shoulder.
