Explore "The Lonely House" by Arthur Gask on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Ameer Ali was a daring driver, and the roads were clear. The big car sped on as if it were pursued by evil spirits. Its great lights flashed like ogres' eyes, and its huge engine roared as if it were a hurricane enchained. Down a broad highway through avenues of ghostly trees, over the dim park lands, through dark and silent city streets, and then over park lands once again, until the long Port-road was reached.
"They're going to Port Adelaide," said the detective, gripping like grim death to his uncomfortable seat, "and they don't intend that anyone should overtake them either. We must be touching fifty at least."