"He was at the hotel in Guildford when I stopped for tea, with two other men. They're in a great Daimter car, and they're coming this way. I heard them ask about the roads."
"How far were they behind you?" I asked.
"They must be close up," he answered. "Listen!"
"Another motor!" Isobel cried suddenly. "Can you not hear it?"
There was no mistaking the sound, the deep, low throbbing of a powerful engine as yet some distance away. I was conscious of a curious sense of uneasiness.
"Isobel," I said, "would you mind going indoors!"
"Indoors indeed!" she laughed. "But no. I must see this motor-car."
I stepped quickly up to her, and laid my hand upon her arm.
"Isobel," I said earnestly, "you do not understand. I do not wish to frighten you, but I am afraid that the men in this car are coming here, and it is better that you should be out of the way. They want to take you from us. Go inside and lock yourself in your room."
She looked at me half puzzled, half resentful. The car was close at hand now. We ourselves were almost in the path of its flaring searchlights.