ved it much faster
than either the track or road would stand. Also, Corrie Rose was proved
fully capable of handling his wheeled projectile. When he came in, at
dusk, the testers regarded him with unconcealed respect; there was
genuine admiration mingled with the congratulations offered him by the
car's designers. He had become, after Gerard, the most conspicuous man
in the great automobile plant.

Devlin crawled out of his seat and complained of nausea.

On the third day of practice, when Corrie brought the car back to the
factory at noon, Rupert suddenly walked up to him and broke the silence
of months.

"What's the matter with your fifth cylinder?" he demanded.

Amazed, Corrie slipped off his mask and turned his fatigued face to the
questioner.

"I couldn't help it," he deprecated, quite humbly. "Devlin was too busy
holding on to do much, and I was driving."

Rupert darted a glance of blighting contempt at the sullen Devlin, and
walked away.

Gerard had not seen the episode, nor did it reach his ears. But he was
chatting with Corrie, late on the same afternoon, when Rupert emerged
from the factory and thrust an overcoat at the young driver who stood
beside his car.

"I ain't hanging out a diploma," he stated acridly, "but this ain't
summer by some months and you're qualifying for a hospital--which I
don't guess is what you were brought here for."

"Thank you," faltered Corrie, and wonderingly put on the garment.

Gerard continued to survey the machine before him, not a flicker
crossing his expression or betraying consciousness of any unusual event.
Rupert's swift look of blended defiance and embarrassment directed
towards his chief glided off an impenetrable surface.

Corrie followed with wistful eyes the mechanician's return to the
building.

"I knew a West Point fellow, once, who had been given the 'silence'
treatment--I used to wonder why he minded so much," he laughed, apropos
of nothing, but his voice caught.

It was the first time Corrie had ever admitted knowledge of Rupert's
ostracism of him, or revealed how deeply the hurt had been felt. Gerard
laid a caressing hand on his shoulder, wisely saying nothing. After a
moment Corrie grasped the Titan's steering-wheel and swung himself into
his seat behind it, but paused before summoning Devlin to start the
motor, and rewarded Gerard's tact by another impulsive confidence,
spoken just audibly:

"I miss my father all the time. I think I always wil