r without a break?

Take the utter disappearance of the gray car, for instance. That had
seemed to me reassuring; but was it? Those four men had cared enough
about Miss Falconer's movements to involve themselves in a murder. Why,
then, should they have given up the chase in so mysterious a way?

And the girl herself! When I looked at her I felt horribly worried. She
was shivering through her furs; yet it was not with the cold, I felt
quite sure. With her hands clasped, she sat staring at that confounded
castle with a look of actual hunger. She cared too much about this
thing; she couldn't stand a great deal more.

Well, she wouldn't have to, I concluded, my brief misgivings fading. We
were out of the woods; another hour would see the business closed. As
for the men in the car, they were victims of their guilty consciences,
were no doubt in full flight or hiding somewhere in terror of the law.

At any rate, there was no point in my sitting here like a graven image;
so I roused myself and wrapped the rugs closer about the girl.

"I'm to drive to the chateau?" I inquired with recovered cheerfulness. I
had to repeat the words before they broke her trance.

"Yes," she answered. Suddenly, impulsively, she turned toward me,
her face almost feverish, her eyes astonishingly large and bright. "I
haven't told you much," she acknowledged tremulously; "but you won't
think that I don't trust you. It is only that I couldn't talk of it and
keep my courage; and I must keep it a little longer--until we know the
truth."

"That's quite all right, Miss Falconer." I was switching on the lamps.
Then I extinguished them; their clear acetylene glare seemed almost
weirdly out of place. "We can muddle along without any lights. Not
much traffic here," I muttered. I had a feeling, anyhow, that
unostentatiousness of approach might not be bad.

There was intense silence about us; not even a breeze was stirring. A
thin crescent moon was out, silvering the river and the trees. The road
was atrocious; on one dark stretch the car, rocking into a rut, jolted
us viciously and brought my teeth together on the tip of my tongue.

"Sorry," I gasped, between humiliation and pain.

With the silence and the dimness, we were like ghosts, the car like a
phantom. An old stone bridge seemed to beckon us, and we crossed to the
other side. There, at Miss Falconer's gesture, I drew the automobile
off the road at the edge of the town, halted it beneath some tre