"I guess you're right," she said.
For some time neither spoke, while their car bumped slowly along the uneven road.
"What do you suppose that lame man was doing on Marvin Ridge?" she inquired presently.
"Search me. How should I know? You certainly love to fire questions at a guy."
"He told us the car hadn't been used lately," she mused, ignoring his remark.
"That only goes to prove we're right in thinking he has been in hiding somewhere."
"But where?"
"Merciful heaven! Another question! That road runs down to Noroton, doesn't it? And from there the Boston Post could bring him from all points east and west. There's no telling where he'd come from."
"But I drove up from the Post Road that way yesterday. It has been freshly oiled to within a half mile of where we met him. Yet that Packard hadn't run through oil. If she had, I'd have seen it with my headlights smack on her."
"Perhaps he came down a side road?"