Halfway up the hill across the valley, he had come upon an abandoned car.  It had evidently reached its limit, the momentum of the previous hill had carried it so far up the other, then the driver had stopped it and let it back slowly off the road into a clump of bushes that hid a little gully.

But that was all.  There was not a sign of a person about.  Whatever had happened here had happened some hours before.  We looked about.  All was Cimmerian darkness.  Not a house or habitation of man or beast was in sight, though they might not be far away.

We beat about the under-brush, but succeeded in stirring up nothing but mosquitoes.

What were we to do?  We were wasting valuable time.  Where should we go?

“I doubt whether they would have kept on the road,” reasoned Kennedy.  “They must have known they would be followed.  The hardest place to follow them would be across country.”

“With a lantern?” I objected.  “We can’t do it.”

Kennedy glanced at his watch.  “It will be three hours before there is light enough to see anything by,” he considered.  “They have had at least a couple of hours.  Five hours is too good a start.  Burke--take one of the cars.  Go ahead along the road.  We mustn’t neglect that.  I’ll take the other.  I want to get back to that house and call O’ Connor.  Walter, you stay here with the rest.”

We separated and I felt that, although I was doing nothing, I had my hands full watching these three.

Lockwood was restless and could not help beating around in the under-brush, in the hope of turning up something.  Now and then he would mutter to himself some threat if anything happened to Inez.  I let him occupy himself, for our own, as much as his, peace of mind.  Alfonso had joined his mother in the car and they sat there conversing in low tones in Spanish, while I watched them furtively.

Of a sudden, I became aware that I missed the sound of Lockwood beating about the under-brush.  I called, but there was no answer.  Then we all called.  There came back nothing but a mocking echo.  I could not follow him.  If I did, I would lose the de Moches.

Had he been laying low, waiting his opportunity to get away?  Or was he playing a lone hand?  Much as I suspected about him, during the past few hours I had come to admire him.

I sent the de Moche driver out to look for him, but he seemed afraid to venture far, and, of course, returned and said that he could not find him.  Even in his getaway, Lockwood had been characteristic.  He had been strong enough to bide his time, clever enough to throw every one off guard.  It put a new aspect on the case for me.  Had Whitney intended the capture of Inez for Lockwood?  Had our coming so unexpectedly into the case thrown the plans awry and was it the purpose to leave them marooned at Rockledge while we were shunted off in the city?  That, too, was plausible.  I wished Kennedy would return before anything else happened.