Yet, in a way, this trial stood me in stead, for, when at last it was light and I could see the landscape and Mansel’s Rolls scudding before me like a gull, to follow behind seemed child’s play and, though he went faster than ever, I was able without any trouble to maintain the pace which he set.
The sun rose about six into a cloudless sky, and, since rain had lately fallen, the country was fresh to look on and smelled very sweet. Mansel raised next to no dust, for this had been laid by the rain and was not yet dry, and, as the chill of the dawn changed to the cool of the day, our passage became every moment more agreeable. There was, however, a look of heat in the heaven which there was no mistaking.
Our road was no longer so free as it had been by night, but I was surprised to encounter so little traffic, and, indeed, the clocks had struck seven before the pace at which we were travelling had to be sensibly reduced.
At a quarter to eight we met our first definite check in the shape of a level crossing, the gates of which were closed.
To make the best of the business, we halted for a quarter of an hour, and, while Tester was given his freedom, we ate and drank of the food which Bell had brought.
Mansel was plainly pleased with the pace at which we had come, but insisted that now was the time for Hanbury to take my place: then he turned to Bell and asked if he had recalled the people he had seen at Dieppe.
“I’ve done my best, sir,” said Bell: “but I fear there’s not very many I’d know again.”
“That remains to be seen,” said Mansel. “But please try to bear them in mind, and picture to yourself the time you spent on the quay. I expect you walked up and down. Try to remember if anyone was doing the same.”
“Very good, sir,” said Bell obediently.
Five minutes later I was sitting with Mansel, and we were again under way.
We had now come to roads that we had travelled before, but, though the features of the way seemed faintly familiar, I could not have taken it safely without the aid of the map nor have threaded a single town without direction. Mansel, however, drove with the utmost confidence, never hesitating where the road forked or peering at any signpost, but whipping through town after town as though it were the place of his birth.
When I remarked upon this, he said it was nothing at all and that I knew the way to Salzburg as well as did he, but that he was using his knowledge, while I was not.
“And that,” said he, “is why I’m badgering Bell. Bell is observant, and I’ll lay a hundred to one that he observed the fellow that left that note. I don’t think I did, for when he saw me coming, he probably made himself scarce. And you were behind the car. But Bell and he were both waiting for the boat to come in. Well, there’s the making of a clue. It’s slight enough in all conscience, but—well, I don’t know where Adèle is, and Austria’s quite a big place.” After a little, he continued thoughtfully. “Memory’s a storeroom, that’s all: the storeroom of things you observe. If you’re observant, so much the richer your store. But you must be a good storeman—able to produce the requisite, when the moment comes. Some time ago I observed the way to Salzburg: and now I’m producing it. Bell undoubtedly observed the man who carried that note: let’s hope he’ll be able to produce him—when the moment comes.”
We said no more at the time, and, being, I suppose, more tired than I had suspected, I fell asleep.
When I awoke, it was noon, and the day was immensely hot.
Mansel was driving in the same effortless way, looking very well content with his lot and seeming to be perfectly fresh.
When he saw that I was awake, he told me that we should make Strasbourg in two hours’ time. We had stopped for fuel whilst I slept, but that was all.
Sure enough, we came to Strasbourg at two o’clock, and at half-past two we were lunching on German soil.
Then I changed places with George, who was white as a miller with dust, for the sun had done its work, and, since there was next to no wind, the cars would have had to travel a mile apart if the second was to escape the clouds which its fellow raised.
The afternoon was made dreadful by the heat and glare of the sun, which oppressed us mercilessly and made the air so sultry that our pace brought us no relief: I never found shade so grateful in all my life, nor yet so scarce, and how Mansel, who had had no respite, bore the burden of that day so lightly I never shall understand.
Twice we were checked by the gates of level crossings and once we stopped for fuel, but these delays were too brief to be refreshing, and I, for one, was thankful when we came to rest at sundown
