After waiting perhaps five minutes, peering unsuccessfully behind the curtain, raising our voices in talk, and finally rapping upon the table without attracting attendance, we decided to return to where we had left the cars and visit the shop again on our way out of the town.
As we came to the Plaza, the clock of the great church announced the hour. A quarter to one.
"Good Heavens!" cried Daphne, checking the time by her wrist-watch. "I'd no idea it was so late. And I left word for Evelyn to ring me up at the hotel at one o'clock." We made a rush for the cars. "Can it be done, Jonah?"
"Only by air," said my cousin. "Outside a track, thirteen miles in fourteen minutes is just a shade too thick; Still, there's nothing the matter with the road after Irun, and Evelyn may be delayed getting through."
He swung himself into Ping and started her up. My sister and Jill scrambled aboard while he was turning her round. As he headed for the Calle Mayor—
"Stop!" shrieked his sister. "The scent, Jonah, the scent. We've got to go back."
Jonah threw out the clutch.
"We'll get that!" cried Adèle. "You go on, and we'll follow."
"Right."
The next moment Ping had dropped out of sight.