As Craig advanced toward me he stopped and picked up something that his foot had kicked in the dust. He advanced, holding away from him what looked like a small glass vial, while with his other hand he fumbled a small pocket flashlight.
“Whoever he was,” he exclaimed, excitedly, “the fellow is clever. Read the label.”
I did and drew back, with a hasty glance at my hound, which already lay dead at my feet.
The vial was labeled, “PRUSSIC ACID—POISON.”
“Winifred!” I exclaimed, voicing the first fear that flashed through my mind.
“I think she is all right,” reassured Craig. “If the abductor had wanted to kill her he would have had plenty of chances before this. No, I can imagine him stopping a second to wet a handkerchief in the brook and bind it over his nose as he opened the bottle and smeared the deadly fluid over the soles of his shoes, casting the empty bottle back of him. Certainly a clever ruse.”
Together we had retreated from the danger zone toward Burke and Riley, who were agape with astonishment as they learned of the unheard-of discovery we had made.
We looked at one another in blank astonishment and fear. Would the abductor get away, after all?
“A vexatious delay,” interrupted Kennedy, calmly. “But I doubt if they counted on our having another dog. The stuff must have worn off their shoes rapidly as they hurried on. Here, Burke, let me have the hound, now. It may take me some time, but I am sure that I can overcome this obstacle.”
While we waited, Craig cut a wide circle off the road, with the dog whining at having lost the scent. For some minutes down the road he let him run pretty free, trying to pick up the scent again at some point well past that at which we had found the deadliest of acids, where a dirt road debouched from the macadam.