“Maybe these Gypsies did not have a thing to do with the absence of Tess and Dot,” whispered Agnes.
“And maybe they had everything to do with it,” declared Neale, aloud. “Looks to me as though they had turned the trick and escaped.”
“And in those motor-vans they can cover a deal of ground,” suggested Mr. Pinkney.
Agnes broke down at this point and wept. The constable had got out and with the aid of his pocket lamp searched the vicinity. He saw plainly where the vans had turned into the dusty road and the direction they had taken.
“The best we can do is to follow them,” he advised. “If I can catch them inside the county I’ll be able to handle them. And if they go into the next county I’ll get help. Well search their vans, no matter where we catch them. All ready?”
The party went on. To catch the moving Gypsies was no easy matter. Frequently Mr. Stryker got down to look at the tracks. This was at every cross road.
Fortunately the wheels of one of the Gypsy vans had a peculiar tread. It was easy to see the marks of these wheels in the dust. Therefore, although the pursuit was slow, they managed to be sure they were going right.
From eleven o’clock until three in the morning the motor-car was driven over the circuitous route the nomad procession had taken earlier in the night. Then they came to the new encampment.
Their approach was announced by the barking of the mongrel dogs that guarded the camp. Half the tribe seemed to be awake when the car slowed down and stopped on the roadway. Mr. Stryker got out and shouted for Big Jim.
“Come out here!” said the constable threateningly. “I know you are here, and I want to talk with you, Jim Costello.”