“What kind of dogs are they?”

“Some Airedales, but mostly Belgian sheep dogs.  There is one in the pack, Cherry, who has a wonderful reputation.  A great deal depends, now, on our dog-detectives.”

“But,” I objected, “what good will they be?  Our men are in an automobile.”

“We thought of that,” replied Garrick confidently.  “Here they are, at last,” he cried, as a car swung up the lane from the road and stopped with a rush under our window.  He leaned out and shouted, “Dillon—­up here—­quick!”

It was Dillon and his chauffeur, Jim.  A moment later there was a tremendous shifting and pulling of heavy pieces of furniture in the hall, and, as the door swung open, the honest face of the commissioner appeared, inquiring anxiously if we were all right.

“Yes, all right,” assured Garrick.  “Come on, now.  There isn’t a minute to lose.  Send Jim up here to take charge of Forbes.  I’ll drive the car myself.”

Garrick accomplished in seconds what it takes minutes to tell.  The chauffeur had already turned the car around and it was ready to start.  We jumped in, leaving him to go upstairs and keep the manacled Forbes safely.

We gained the road and sped along, our lights now lighted and showing us plainly what was ahead.  The dust-laden air told us that we were right as we turned into the narrow crossroad.  I wondered how we were ever going to overtake them after they had such a start, at night, too, over roads which were presumably familiar to them.

“Drive carefully,” shouted Dillon soon, “it must be along here, somewhere, Garrick.”

A moment before we had been almost literally eating the dust the car ahead had raised.  Garrick slowed down as we approached a bend in the road.

There, almost directly in our path, stood a car, turned half across the road and jammed up into a fence.  I could scarcely believe it.  It was the bandit’s car—­deserted!

“Good!” exclaimed Dillon as Garrick brought our own car to a stop with a jerk only a few feet away.

I looked about in amazement, first at the empty car and then into the darkness on either side of the road.  For the moment I could not explain it.  Why had they abandoned the car, especially when they had every prospect of eluding us in it?

They had not been forced to turn out for anybody, for no other vehicle had passed us.  Was it tire trouble or engine trouble?  I turned to the others for an explanation.

“I thought it must be about here,” cried Dillon.  “We had one of my men place an obstruction in the road.  They didn’t run into it, which shows clever driving, but they had to turn so sharply that they ran into the fence.  I guess they realised that there was no use in turning and trying to go back.”

“They have taken to the open country,” shouted Garrick, leaping up on the seat of our car and looking about in a vain endeavour to catch some sign of them.