“At any other time I should be more than interested,” remarked Brixton grimly, curbing his impatience to be doing something.
“I appreciate that, sir,” rejoined Kennedy. “Ah, here it is. I have the central down in the village. Yes? They will hold the boat for us? Good. Thank you. The nine-o’clock train is five minutes late? Yes—what? Count Wachtmann’s car is there? Oh, yes, the train is just pulling in. I see. Miss Brixton has entered his car alone. What’s that? His chauffeur has started the car without waiting for the Count, who is coming down the platform?”
Instantly Kennedy was on his feet. He was dashing up the corridor and the stairs from the den and down into the basement to the little storeroom.
We burst into the place. It was empty. Janeff had cut the wires and fled. There was not a moment to lose. Craig hastily made sure that he had not discovered or injured the phantom circuit.
“Call the fastest car you have in your garage, Mr. Brixton,” ordered Kennedy. “Hello, hello, central! Get the lodge at the Brixton estate. Tell them if they see the engineer Janeff going out to stop him. Alarm the watchman and have the dogs ready. Catch him at any cost, dead, or alive.”
A moment later Brixton’s car raced around, and we piled in and were off like a whirlwind. Already we could see lights moving about and hear the baying of dogs. Personally, I wouldn’t have given much for Janeff’s chances of escape.
As we turned the bend in the road just before we reached the ferry, we almost ran into two cars standing before the ferry house. It looked as though one had run squarely in front of the other and blocked it off. In the slip the ferry boat was still steaming and waiting.
Beside the wrecked car a man was lying on the ground groaning, while another man was quieting a girl whom he was leading to the waiting-room of the ferry.
Brixton, weak though he was from his illness, leaped out of our car almost before we stopped and caught the girl in his arms.
“Father!” she exclaimed, clinging to him.