skirt.
"Say, that guy of a section boss told me to look out for caves. I've been
in one, sure enough! Just saved myself."
They hurried to where she was. Quest peered into the declivity down which
she had slipped. Suddenly he gave vent to a little exclamation. At the
same time Laura called out. An inch or two of tweed was clearly visible
through the strewn leaves. Quest, flat on his stomach, crawled a little
way down, took out his electric torch from his pocket and brushed the
stuff away. Then he clambered to his feet.
"Our search is over," he declared gravely, "and your troubles, Lenora.
That is Macdougal's body. He may have slipped in as you did, Laura, or he
may have crept there to hide, and starved. Anyhow, it is he."
Lenora's face sank into her hands for a moment. Quest stood on one side
while Laura passed her arm around the other girl's waist. Presently he
returned.
"We can do no more," he pointed out; "we must send for help to bring the
body up."
"I shall stay here, please," Lenora begged. "Don't think I'm foolish,
please. I can't pretend I am sorry, but I'll stay till some one comes and
takes--it away."
"She is quite right," Laura declared, "and I will stay with her."
Quest glanced at his watch.
"That's all right," he declared. "I'll have to get, but I'll send some one
along. Cheer up, Lenora," he added kindly. "Look after her, Laura."
"You bet!" that young woman declared brusquely.
Quest hastened along the road to the spot where he had left the car. The
chauffeur, who saw him coming, started up and climbed to his seat. Quest
took his place.
"Drive to the office," he ordered.
The man slipped in his clutch. They were in the act of gliding off when
there was a tremendous report. They stopped short. The man jumped down and
looked at the back tire.
"Blow-out," he remarked laconically.
Quest frowned.
"How long will it take?"
"Four minutes," the man replied. "I've got another wheel ready. That's the
queerest blow-out I ever saw, though."
The two men leaned over the tire. Suddenly Quest's expression changed. His
hand stole into his hip pocket.
"Tom," he explained, "that wasn't a blow-out at all. Look here!"
He pointed to the small level hole. Almost at once he stood back and the
sunshine flashed upon the revolver clutched in his right hand.
"That was a bullet," he continued. "Some one fired at that tire. Tom,
there's trouble about."
The man looked nervously around.
"
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