car. Then he stepped into the car itself
and began a minute inspection of rugs and cushions. The search was only
a matter of habit, and it revealed nothing. He stepped down and pointed
to some footprints. "Any one been here but you two men?" he asked.
"Here, both of you, press your right feet here. That's it." He
contemplated the marks with careful deliberation for a while, and then,
stepping wide, followed a series of footmarks leading up the lane.

"Our gentleman walked pretty fast," observed Green. "See how plain the
heel and toe marks come out, while the rest of the impression is
blurred. Hello! what's this?"

The road had terminated abruptly in a bridle-path leading apparently to
the interior of the wood, and the foot-prints had become more and more
indistinct with the transition to ground covered with fallen leaves.
They had failed entirely as Green spoke, and he flung the light about in
an effort to pick them up again. Then something met his eye on a spike
of blackthorn, and he carefully picked off a thread of brown cloth.
"We're done for to-night, I'm afraid," he said. "He's gone off the track
and got into the wood. We'll get back, Malley, and try to find a room or
somewhere to sleep near here. Then we can turn out with daylight. But
first of all we must 'phone to the Yard. By the way, sergeant, do you
know whose estate we're on?"

"I'm not quite sure," growled the officer. "It used to be Colonel
Sawford's, but I believe he sold it to that man who was killed in London
a little while back. Grell was his name, wasn't it?"

"Really? Thank you, sergeant. Come on, Malley. Perhaps we can find the
village post office and use the 'phone."

CHAPTER XLVI

It was to Heldon Foyle's own house, and not to Scotland Yard, that Green
telephoned eventually. Clad in a bright blue dressing-gown, the
superintendent listened, with a few non-committal interjections, until
his lieutenant had finished.

"On his own land, eh?" he said at last. "What do you make of it, Green?
Is it genuine, or has he done it just to throw us off, and doubled back
on his trail? It looks as if he intended us to find that motor-car."

Green disagreed. "It's a deserted, blind road made for wood-cutters
years ago. It was only a chance that a constabulary sergeant found it.
He may have left it there for the time being, relying on coming back to
hide it properly out of sight. And this is an ideal place for any one to
keep close. It would take a