Kennedy had joined us by this time and we all hurried over. Down in the ravine we could see a lantern which Burke had brought and which was now resting on the overturned chassis of the car.
Lockwood was down there ahead of us all, peering under the heavy body fearfully, as if he expected to see two forms of mangled flesh. He straightened up, then took the lantern and flashed it about. There was nothing except cushions and a few parts of the car within the radius of its gleam.
"Where are they?" he demanded, turning to us. "It's Whitney's car, all right."
Burke shook his head. "I've traced the car so far. They were getting ahead of me, when this happened."
Together we managed to right the car which was on a hillock. It sank a little further down the hill, but at least we could look inside it.
"Bring the lantern," ordered Kennedy.
Minutely, part by part, he went over the car. "Something went wrong," he muttered. "It is too much wrecked to tell what it was. Flash the light over here," he directed, stepping over the seat into the back of the tonneau.
A moment later he took the light himself and held it close to the rods that supported the top. I saw him reach down and pull from them a few strands of dark hair that had caught between the rods and had been pulled out or broken.
"No need of Bertillon's palette of human hair to identify that," he exclaimed. "There isn't time to study it and if there were it would be unnecessary. She was with him, all right."
"Yes," agreed Lockwood. "But where is she now—where is he? Could they have been hurt, picked up by some one and carried where they could get aid?"