“Not any if we keep going. I found out about another road we can take. It’s rough for a few miles but connects with our highway.”
“Okay, let’s be traveling,” Doyle said, curling up on the seat again.
“Why were you telephoning?” Flash questioned the driver.
“I called back to the nearest town for road instructions. No one in the café could give me accurate information.”
“I notice you didn’t inquire at the filling station.”
“The attendant was busy. I knew you were in a hurry so I telephoned.”
“Never mind,” growled Doyle irritably. “Let’s get started.”
The car moved on down the road, turning at the first corner. For the next ten minutes they followed a narrow, twisting dirt highway which led deep into a pine woods.
Flash had lost all desire to sleep. The chauffeur’s explanation did not satisfy him.
As the car bumped on mile after mile over the deserted road, Doyle too began to show signs of nervousness.