Approaching dusk found Penny and her father still several miles from Knob Hill.
"I thought we'd be settled in our cottage by this time," said Mr. Nichols, frowning. "Perhaps we ought to spend the night at a hotel."
"We can decide about that when we reach Knob Hill," Penny replied. "But let's stop somewhere for an early supper. Otherwise, we'll have to buy supplies and carry them with us."
Mr. Nichols turned in at the next roadside cafe. He and Penny enjoyed an excellent meal and then went on once more toward Knob Hill.
It was nearly dark by this time. As they rounded a sharp curve, Mr. Nichols reached down to switch on the headlights. At the same moment Penny gave a little cry of alarm.
"Oh, Dad! There's a car in the ditch!"
Mr. Nichols slammed on the foot brake, for he had seen the wreck at the same instant. A high-powered blue sedan lay on its side in the rain-gutted ditch to the right of the road. One tire was down, and Mr. Nichols judged that a blow-out had caused the accident.
"I wonder if anyone was hurt?" Penny gasped.
Just then a short, squat little man in a long gray overcoat and felt hat stepped out from behind the overturned car. He held up his hand as a signal to Mr. Nichols.
"I see you've had an accident," said the detective as he brought his own car to a standstill at the side of the road. "Anything we can do to help?"