Giles saw the danger of Anne—supposing her to be guilty, as the groom thought her—and made up his mind at once.
"Go home, Trim, and saddle a couple of horses. We'll follow the track of the car, and when we find it——"
"You'll never find it," put in Morley, who had been listening with all his ears. "The falling snow must have obliterated any wheel-marks by this time. When did this occur?"
"I don't know," replied Giles coldly. "And instead of chattering there, you had better have the—the—" he stammered, "the body taken into some room and attended to. Poor Daisy," he sighed, "what an end to your bright young life!"
Here Mr. Drake, the rector, thought it necessary to assert himself, and waved aside the throng.
"All you men and women, go to your homes," he said. "Nothing can be done to-night, and——"
"The car might be followed," said a voice.
"And the car will be followed," said Giles, pushing his way to the door. "Come, Trim, we'll ride at once. Did no one see the car pass out of the village?"
No one had seen it, as most of the villagers had been inside the church and the rest in their homes.
There was some talk and suggestions, but Ware, with a nod to Morley, took a hasty departure and disappeared into the stormy night.