Flash was weary to the point of exhaustion, but for some reason he could not sleep. His head ached. Disconnected thoughts kept racing through his mind.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have left Excelsior City without at least trying to have Rascomb arrested,” he reflected. “Oh, well, it’s too late now.”
Rolling up on the opposite side of the seat, he closed his eyes. Sleep refused to come.
Arousing a few minutes later, he surprised Clarence Purcell in the act of peering over his shoulder into the back of the car. Observing that Flash was awake, he quickly turned his head again.
The night was dark. Not a star illuminated the sky. Glancing out the window, Flash could not see beyond the hedges which lined the road. Nor was he certain of his directions.
“Where are we anyway?” he asked the driver.
“Fifty-eight miles out of Excelsior City.”
“I must be turned around. It seems to me we’re traveling the wrong direction.”
“The road twists.”
Flash settled down again and at length dropped off to sleep. He awakened to find the car no longer moving.