It had been a night of terror and we were about ready to drop from sheer exhaustion. Besides, it was too late now to do anything more. Kennedy and I decided to retire, leaving the Secret Service operatives to watch for any further suspicious move on the part of any one, especially those who, to all appearances, at least, seemed to be safely asleep at the Lodge.
XVI
THE INVISIBLE INK
We were awakened very early by the violent ringing of our room telephone. Kennedy was at the receiver almost before I realized what was going on.
“Have you a machine to follow her?” I heard him ask, hurriedly, then add: “All right. I’ll leave the trailing to you. Don’t let her get away. We will go to the city on the train and then you can communicate with me at Mr. Hastings’s office. I’ll go there.”
“Who was it?” I asked as Craig hung up. “What has happened?”
“Paquita has tried to steal a march on us, I imagine,” he replied, beginning to dress hastily. “Riley must have been up all night—or at least very early. He saw her come down-stairs—it’s scarcely five o’clock now—and a moment later her car pulled up. She’s off, apparently by the road to New York. It’s strange, too. Except that she got off so early, she made very little effort at concealment. You would think she must have known that she would be seen. I wonder if she wanted us to know it, or was just taking a chance at getting away while we were napping?”
“Is Riley following her?” I asked.
“Yes. As soon as he saw her speedster at the door he went out by another door and around to the garage. It just happened that the night man was there and Riley wheedled him into letting him have a car. It isn’t as fast as Paquita’s, but then it isn’t always the fast car that gets away with it between here and New York. Sometimes, if you know how to drive and where the bad spots in the road are, you can make up what you lack in speed.”
Kennedy had pulled a time-table out of his pocket and was hurriedly consulting it.