Warrington, excited, leaned forward and interrupted.

“And, Garrick,” he exclaimed, horrified, “the car was all stained with blood!”

CHAPTER II

THE MURDER CAR

Garrick looked from one to the other of his visitors intently.  Here was an entirely unexpected development in the case which stamped it as set apart from the ordinary.

“How did the driver manage to explain it and get away?” he asked quickly.

McBirney shook his head in evident disgust at the affair.

“He must be a clever one,” he pursued thoughtfully.  “When he came into the garage they say he was in a rather jovial mood.  He said that he had run into a cow a few miles back on the road, and then began to cuss the farmer, who had stung him a hundred dollars for the animal.”

“And they believed it?” prompted Garrick.

“Yes, the garage keeper’s assistant swallowed the story and cleaned the car.  There was some blood on the radiator and hood, but the strange part was that it was spattered even over the rear seat—­in fact, was mostly in the rear.”

“How did he explain that?”

“Said that he guessed the farmer who stung him wouldn’t get much for the carcass, for it had been pretty well cut up and a part of it flung right back into the tonneau.”

“And the man believed that, too?”

“Yes; but afterward the garage keeper himself was told.  He met the farmer in town later, and the farmer denied that he had lost a cow.  That set the garage keeper thinking.  And then, while they were cleaning up the garage later in the day, they found that cartridge where the car had been washed down and swept out.  We had already advertised a reward for information about the stolen car, and, when he heard of the reward, for there are plenty of people about looking for money in that way, he telephoned in, thinking the story might interest us.  It did, for I am convinced that his description of the machine tallies closely with that of Mr. Warrington’s.”

“How about the man who drove it?” cut in Garrick.

“That’s the unfortunate part of it,” replied McBirney, chagrined.  “These amateur detectives about the country rarely seem to have any foresight.  Of course they could describe how the fellow was dressed, even the make of goggles he wore.  But, when it came to telling one feature of his face accurately, they took refuge behind the fact that he kept his cap pulled down over his eyes, and talked like a ‘city fellow.’”

“All of which is highly important,” agreed Garrick.  “I suppose they’d consider a fingerprint, or the portrait parle the height of idiocy beside that.”

“Disgusting,” ejaculated McBirney, who, whatever his own limitations might be, had a wholesome respect for Garrick’s new methods.

“Where did you leave the car?” asked Garrick of Warrington.  “How did you lose it?”