orge said only:

"Now we're coming up a little--don't you think we're coming up a
little? Throw it wide open, Jarvo--now, go!"

"What are you going to do when you catch them?" demanded Amory. "We
can't lunge into them, for fear of hurting Miss Holland. And who
knows what devilish contrivance they've got--dum-dum bullets with a
poison seal attachment," prophesied Amory darkly. "What are you
going to do?"

"I don't know what we're going to do," said St. George doggedly,
"but if we can overtake them it won't take us long to find out."

Never so slightly the pursuers were gaining. It was impossible to
tell whether those in the flying car knew that they were followed,
and if they did know, and if Olivia knew, St. George wondered
whether the pursuit were to her a new alarm, or whether she were
looking to them for deliverance. If she knew! His heart stood still
at the thought--oh, and if they had both known, that morning at
breakfast at the Boris, that _this_ was the way the genie would come
out of the jar. But how, if he were unable to help her? And how
could he help her when these others might have Heaven knew what
resources of black art, art of all the colours of the Yaque
spectrum, if it came to that? The slim-trunked trees flew past them,
and the tender branches brushed their shoulders and hung out their
flowers like lamps. Warm wind was in their faces, sweet,
reverberant voices of the wood-things came chorusing, and ahead
there in the dimness, that misty will-o'-the-wisp was her veil,
Olivia's veil. St. George would have followed if it had led him
between-worlds.

In a manner it did lead him between-worlds. Emerging suddenly upon a
broader avenue their car followed the other aside and shot through a
great gateway of the palace wall--a wall built of such massive
blocks that the gateway formed a covered passageway. From there,
delicately lighted, greenly arched, and on this festal night, quite
deserted, went the road by which, the night before, they had entered
Med.

"Now," said St. George between set teeth, "now see what you can do,
Jarvo. Everything depends on you."

Evidently Jarvo had been waiting for this stretch of open road and
expecting the other car to take it. He bent forward, his wiry
little frame like a quivering spring controlling the motion. The
motor leaped at his touch. Away down the road they tore with the
wind singing its challenge. Second by second they saw their
gain increase. The uniforms of