Chapter 13
THE SWEDE had slammed his gears into top and kept them there. He drove with the detached, complacent mien of an engine-driver setting out on a non-stop run, as though there were nothing between him and his destination. Rattling and bumping, they bowled along.
Dene took off his hat and let the air fan his brow. That scramble up the hillside, that brisk hike along the highway, in the sultry night, had heated him more than he realized at the time. He relaxed, idly watching the dark ribbon of road unravel itself before them. The motion was soothing and so was his companion’s stolid silence. It enabled the Scotland Yard man to collect his thoughts. He began to sort out and analyze the impressions he had gathered.
Had he been at his familiar window-table, encompassed by the demure
