Perry?'
'I sent him back to the car,' said Teal shortwindedly. 'With Mason.'
'Which car?'
'Hallin's.'
'You sap! That's where Hallin'll be making for.'
'Perry's got his gun back.'
'Oh! . . . How's Mason?'
'Shot through the lungs. Perry carried him.'
'Learn anything from Perry?'
'Not much. I didn't wait.'
They went on quickly. Hallin could no longer be heard, but the Saint was certain about the road. And the road would take Hallin to something else. . . .
They came out of the scrub onto level turf, where the going was easier. Down to his left the Saint saw a pair of headlights. He turned, hurrying on.
'Mind the ditch.'
He lighted the detective over, and followed with a leap. As his feet touched the road he heard Perry's challenge.
'Stop where you are!'
'But this is us,' said the Saint.
The car turned a little, and the headlights picked him up. In a moment the car itself swept up beside them.
'You haven't seen Miles?' demanded Simon, with one foot on the step.
'Not a sign.'
'And you haven't heard anything?'
'Only you. I thought--'
'Damnation!' said the Saint, in his gentle way.
He looked up and down the road, listening intently, but he could hear nothing. Then he swung onto the running board.
'He's sure to have struck the road somewhere,' he said crisply. 'Teal, hustle yourself round the other side. . . . Can you put this thing along, Nigel?'
'I'll do my best.'
'Off you go, then.'
Teal climbed onto the step at the other side, and the car started again with a jerk, and gathered speed. Teal leaned over to be pessimistic.
'He'll see us coming a mile away if he is on the road,' he said.
'I know,' said the Saint savagely. 'Perhaps you'd rather run.'
He did not care to admit how pessimistic he himself felt. He was certain that Hallin must make for the road sooner or later; but he also knew that Teal's remark was perfectly justified. In fact, if it had been merely a question of capturing a fugitive, the Saint would have given it up forthwith. But there was another reason for the chase, and this very reason also gave it a faint chance of success. It was Perry who made the Saint speak of it.
'He told me Moyna wasn't far away,' Perry said. 'Have you any idea what he meant?'
'What he said,' answered the Saint grimly. 'He brought Moyna with him, but he didn't take her to the cottage. I don't know where he took her; but I'll bet he told you the truth. She won't be far away.'
Perry said, in a strained voice: 'Oughtn't we to be looking for her, instead of chasing him?'
'We're doing both at the same time,' said the Saint quietly. 'Wherever she is, that's where he's gone. Miles Hallin is going to have his life.'
'I-I can hardly believe it, even now,' said the youngster huskily.
Simon's hand rested on his shoulder.
'I hope you won't see it proved,' he said. 'But I know that Hallin has gone to find Moyna.'
Teal cleared his throat.
'He can't have got as far as this, anyway,' he remarked.
'Right as usual, Claud Eustace.' The Saint's voice was preternaturally calm. 'He must have gone down the hill. Turn the car round, Nigel, and we'll try the other line.'
Teal understood, and held his peace. Of course Hallin might easily have gone up the hill. He would have stepped off the road, and they might have passed him. . . . But Perry could be spared the argument. . . . And yet Teal did not know how sincerely the Saint was clinging to his hope. Simon himself did not know why he should have clung to the hope as he did, against all reason; but the faith that spurred him on was above reason. The Saint simply could not believe that the story would end-the way Teal thought it must end. . . .
'This is where we started from.' The Saint spoke to the lad at the wheel in tones of easy confidence. 'We could stop the engine and coast down, couldn't we? Then we'd hardly make any noise. . . .'
They went on with no sound but the soft rustle of the tires. Simon did not have to mention the headlights. Those would give their approach away even more surely than the drone of the engine; but Simon would have invented any fatuous re mark to save Perry's nerves.
They reached the bottom of the hill, and Teal was the first to see the police car standing by the road where they had left it. He pointed it out as Perry applied the brakes.
'He can't have come this way, either,' Teal said. 'If he had, he'd have taken that car.'
'I wonder if he saw it,' said the Saint.
He dropped off into the road, and his flashlight spilled a circle of luminance over the macadam. The circle moved about restlessly, and Teal stepped from the car and followed it.
'Looking for footprints?' inquired the detective sardonically, as he came up behind the Saint; and at that moment the light in the Saint's hand went out.
'Blood,' said the Saint, very quietly.
'That's a nasty word,' murmured Teal.
'You everlasting mutt!' Simon gripped his arm fiercely. 'I wasn't swearing. I was telling you something!' He turned. 'Nigel, turn those headlights out!'
The detective was fumbling with a matchbox; but the Saint stopped him.
'It's all right, old dear,' he drawled. 'This gadget of yours is still working. I just thought we'd better go carefully. Hallin's been past here. He didn't take the car, so he can't have had much farther to go.'
'But what's this about blood? Did you use a knife?'
'No,' said the Saint, smiling in the darkness. 'I hit him on the nose.'
9
Moyna Stanford had been awake for a long time.
She had roused sickly from a deeper sleep than any she had ever known; and it had been more than half an hour before she could recall anything coherently, or even find the strength to move.
And when her memory returned-or, rather, when she had forced it to return-she was not much wiser. She remembered meeting Miles Hallin at Windsor station. He had insisted on driving her back to London, and she had been glad to accept the invitation. In Slough he had complained of an intolerable thirst; they had stopped at a hotel, and she had been persuaded to join him in an early cup of tea. Then they had returned to the car. . . .
She did not know how long she had slept.
When she awoke, she was in darkness. She lay on something soft, and, when she could move, she gathered that it was a bed. She had already discovered that her wrists and ankles were securely bound. . . .
Presently she had learned one or two other things. That it was night, for instance, she learned when she rolled over and saw a square of starlight in one wall; but her hands were tied behind her back, and she could not see her wrist watch to find out what hour of the night it might be. Then she lay still, listening, but not the faintest sound broke the silence. The house was like a tomb.
