... Well, if you must know, I'm Mary Pickford about to be trodden to
death in _Maelstrom_ or _Safety Last_. You know, you're not racing your
engine enough. I can still hear myself think...."
His voice grew fainter and stopped.
Vigorously I shouted his name. A cold draught, and we swept into the
Park. Fitch pulled up on the left-hand side.
"Berry, Berry!" I shouted.
In the distance I could hear voices, but no one answered me....
In response to my sister's exhortations I re-entered the car, and drew a
rug over my shivering limbs. The others put their heads out of the
windows and shouted for Berry in unison. There was no reply.
For a quarter of an hour we shouted at intervals. Then Jonah took the
other lamp and returned to the gate. He did not reappear for ten
minutes, and we were beginning to give him up, when to our relief he
opened the door.
"No good," he said curtly. "We'd better get on. He's probably gone
home."
"I suppose he's all right," said Daphne, in some uneasiness.
"You can't come to any harm on foot," said I. "Everything's going dead
slow for its own sake. And when I last heard him, he was having the time
of his life. Incidentally, as like as not, he'll strike a car that's
going to the Ball and ask for a lift.
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