landscape.

He had, as it were, jealously guarded this vista all day, said not a
word of it, even when Cynthia and he discussed the route, so that it
might come at last in one supreme moment of revelation. And now that
it was here, Cynthia was hidden somewhere in the gray distance, and
Medenham was frowning at a flying strip of white road, with his every
faculty intent on exacting the last ounce of power from the superb
machine he controlled.

The miles rolled beneath, yet there was no token of the Du Vallon that
was to "run slowly up the hill" until overtaken by the industrious
writer of postcards. At the utmost, the French car was given some
twelve or thirteen minutes' start, which meant seven or eight miles
to a high-powered automobile urged forward with the determination
Medenham himself was displaying. Marigny's chauffeur, therefore, must
have dashed through that Titanic cleft in the limestone at a speed
utterly incompatible with his employer's excuse of sightseeing.
Of course, it would be an easy matter for Marigny to enlist Miss
Vanrenen's sympathies in the effort of a first-rate engine to conquer
the adverse gradient. She would hardly realize the rate of progress,
and, from where she was seated, the speed indicator would be invisible
unless she leaned forward for the express purpose of reading it.
Medenham was sure that the Mercury would catch the Du Vallon long
before Bristol was reached, but when the last ample fold of the bleak
plateau spread itself in front, and his hunter's eyes could discern no
cloud of dust lingering in the still air where the road dipped over
the horizon, he began to doubt, to question, to solve grotesque
problems that were discarded ere they had well taken shape.

Oddly enough, there came no more expostulation from Mrs. Devar. Like
the majority of nervous people, she was quelled by the need of placing
complete trust in one who understood his work. While Medenham was
still searching the sky-line for signs of the vanished car, she did
show some interest in his quest. He felt, since he could not see, that
she half rose and looked over his head, bent low behind the partial
shelter afforded by a glass screen. Then she settled back in the seat,
and drew a rug comfortably around her knees. For some reason, she was
strangely content.

The incident supplied food for active thought. So she felt safe! That
which she dreaded as the result of a too strenuous pursuit could not
now happen! Then