Fortunately they had guessed right. Barely fifty yards in front of them the big car took the turn out of the gates to the left. It was moving with deceptive speed, and Ware pushed down the accelerator. In five minutes the two seater was swaying over the not too good road like a boat at sea.
“It will make the speed,” said the doctor, clinging grimly to the wheel, “but you can’t expect a light car to hold the road like a Rolls.”
“Hang on to ’em. That’s all I ask,” said Labar.
The doctor pressed his hat more firmly on his head and nodded. Hedges and trees were speeding by them in a wild goggling procession. The speed indicator was touching fifty. It crept up to fifty-five, wavered, and went on to sixty. Once they made a wild lurch as they swerved to avoid a light farmer’s trap, and Labar thought that they were over. But by some miracle the doctor recovered. They took turnings on two wheels, and swept across a main road in defiance of the warning hand of an Automobile Association scout, to escape by half an inch crashing into a big touring car.
“That’s the Worthing Road,” exclaimed Ware. “They’re keeping to the byroads.”
“Moving east near enough,” said Labar. “I wonder if they’ve spotted us yet.”
“Have a chance if they’d get on to a frequented part,” declared the other. “If they keep to these lanes they’re bound to know that we’re following.”
The way bent and twisted and it was now only at occasional intervals that they caught glimpses of their quarry. Suddenly Ware jammed on the brakes. The car skidded on and came to a halt a yard from an unopened gate, through which the road took a right angled abrupt bend and ended peremptorily at a farmhouse. A second’s inattention on the part of the driver and they had crashed through the gate and into a pond beyond.
“Damn ’em. They’ve switched,” exclaimed Ware.
“There was a turning a quarter of a mile back,” said Labar. “I’m afraid we’ve lost the scent, but we may as well go back and try.”
XVI
They had been outwitted. The conclusion was forced decisively upon them as they returned to the road at which Larry and the others had evaded them.
“There are two turnings. They might have gone right or left,” said Labar gloomily. He descended to examine the tracks. “They’ve done neither,” he added. “Look here. They pulled up under the shelter of these trees till we had gone past. Then they backed out and doubled on their tracks. We’ve wasted ten minutes. They’re miles away by now.”
“Got any idea of the place for which they might be making,” suggested the doctor, hopefully. “We might cut ’em off.”
“Not a million to one chance, I’m afraid,” said the detective. “No. We’re done. I’m much obliged to you, doctor, for your help. It isn’t your fault that they slipped us. We may as well get back to ‘Maid’s Retreat’ and find out what has happened to the servants and one of my men.”
They took the return journey at an easier pace, and it was something more than an hour before they were halted at the lodge gates of “Maid’s Retreat” by a uniformed constable of the county police, who demanded to know their business.
Labar swore under his breath, as he made a guess at what had happened. He had no animus against the local police—indeed he had been prepared to ask for their assistance—but he would have preferred that for the time as few people as possible should know of the dramatic occurrences of which the house had been the centre.
His fears were confirmed when he made known his identity to the policeman. “The super’s looking for you, sir. Seems to have been a regular holdup. They found one of your chaps trussed up in a tool shed.”
“How did you people come to know about this business?” demanded the inspector.
“The butler phoned through to the officer at the village, and he got through to the super. We came along by car.”
They left him and drove up to the house. Before the car had stopped Malone was running alongside with outstretched hand, and a broad smile of relief on his face.
“Thank God you’re all right, sir. I was worried.”
“Oh there’s nothing much wrong with me. They made a clean getaway, that’s all. How about you?”
Malone rubbed his head, ruefully. “My hat won’t fit for a few days, I guess. Got a lump like an ostrich egg on my head. Last thing I was thinking of was that sort of trouble. I was leaning against a tree smoking a pipe and keeping a quiet eye on the house when an earthquake hit me. Oh, someone laid me out good and proper. When I came to I was in the dark and tied up so that I couldn’t wink. That’s all I knew till some of the local police found me half an hour ago. I heard shots while I was lying there and I got the wind up when we found you were missing.”
The local superintendent of the County Constabulary welcomed Labar eagerly. Episodes of this kind were rare among the placid routine of work in a country district. He was a lean, tall, not unintelligent man, with mild watery eyes, and a gruff
