“That I will do without fail.”
It was then decided that the Pleydells should take no action, whatever befell, without communicating with us, that they should accept no message as coming from us unless one of us had brought it, but should detain the messenger; and that we should recognize no one as coming from them but Major Pleydell or one of the servants we knew.
And, so far as I can remember, that was all.
Mansel had already ridden most of the way to Sava and had driven with Major Pleydell to the spot where the glove had been found: he had also seen and talked with all the servants employed about the farm; “and, since,” he said, rising, “I believe them all to be honest, though painfully unobservant, this is where we come in.”
Then he asked that Adèle’s dressing-case should be sent for and packed with such things as she would be glad to have. This we were to take with us wherever we went.
Daphne left to arrange this, and we bade Captain Pleydell “Goodbye.”
For a moment he held my hand.
“Adèle’s very lucky,” he said, “to have such good friends.”
“Oh,” said I, “the boot’s on the other leg.”
“Sleep well,” said Hanbury.
Two minutes later the engines of the cars were running, and Hanbury and I were about to take our seats, when Mansel called us into a parlour and shut the door.
“It is inconceivable,” he said, “that Adèle was taken by chance. Her movements had been watched for some time. Let me go further. They watched her ride out on Monday and met her six miles away.
“Now no one was seen near Poganec, with or without a car: it follows that their observation post was distant, yet close to a road, so that once they had seen her ride out and the way she went, they could instantly move to meet her—six miles away. Very well. Now turn to the window and lift up your eyes.”
We did so, to see the breadth of a valley, as fresh and green as you please, and, beyond, a press of high hills, rising up very sudden and wooded cap-à-pie. These lay, I afterwards found, four miles away. High up in their midst rose a fountain that fell by leaps and rushes down to the valley below, a considerable head of water, for the trees could not hide it, and, from where we stood, I could see its unbroken length.
“Can you see the bridge?” said Mansel. “A fifth of the way down the fall.”
“Yes,” said Hanbury, and after a moment or two I made it out.
“Good,” said Mansel. “Now their observation post was somewhere about that bridge. A post in the woods would be useless, for the trees would get in the way; but that torrent commands Poganec; and a man sitting there with a glass could see anyone come and go. Then, again, that bridge serves a road to Sava—the only road thereabouts.”
I took a step to the window, but Mansel stopped me at once.
“I hope and believe,” he said, “that they’re watching Poganec now. I mean, our movements must interest them no end. So don’t give them food for thought by looking straight into their eyes.
“And now come and look at this map.
“Here’s Poganec, and there’s the bridge—due South. We’re all going there at once. But Chandos and I are going to come up from the West, while Hanbury, Carson and Bell will drive from St. Martin to Sava and come from the East. We may find; we may draw blank; we may meet our friends by the way.” He turned to Hanbury. “Your way will be much the longer, so, if, when you come to the bridge, Chandos and I are not there, drive on round to St. Martin and thence to Villach. If you find anyone suspicious, detain him, but not by force: if he won’t be detained, follow him: drop Bell at the first crossroads, to put us wise: but, whatever you do, don’t lose him, for he’ll show us the way to Adèle.”
With that he put up the map, and two minutes later the cars were clear of the drive and were making towards St. Martin at a leisurely speed. Not until we parted were we to let them go.
“There’s a road on the left,” said Mansel, “somewhere just here.”
With his words the turning appeared, and, as we swung round, Hanbury flashed past our tail-lamp in a pother of dust.
Our road ran into the valley and lay in full view of the bridge, and, since anyone who was watching must now suspect our move, we went like lightning till we came to the foot of the hills and a pretty, white-walled hamlet where four roads met.
A woman, busy at a runnel, gave us good day.
“I’m looking for some friends,” said Mansel. “Have you seen any car go by?”
“I only came in from the fields, sir, a quarter of an hour ago. But no car has passed since then.”
Mansel thanked her and immediately turned to the left.
Almost at once the road rose into the woods, doubling upon itself, like any serpent, and so beset with foliage as to afford no view of anything beyond a ribbon of sky.
For a while there was no sound at all, except the brush of our tires: but, after a little, we could hear the roar of water some distance away. This grew gradually louder, until it quite stopped our ears, so that we knew less than ever what each bend of the road might bring forth.
It was, I suppose, an ideal site for an ambush, for with every turn you entered an inner bailey of the wood, and, though upon such a score we had nothing to fear, I remember thinking that, where two men were at variance, the odds were on him who came first to such a place. Be that as it may, our
