When he returned, Croyden was gazing after an automobile which was disappearing in a cloud of dust.
“Ever see a motor before?” he asked.
Croyden did not hear him. “The fellow driving, unless I am mightily fooled, is the same who stopped me on the street, in front of Clarendon,” he said.
“That’s interesting—any one with him?”
“A woman.”
“A woman! You’re safe!” said Macloud. “He isn’t travelling around with a petticoat—at least, if he’s thinking of tackling you.”
“It isn’t likely, I admit—but suppose he is?”
The car was rapidly vanishing in the distance. Macloud nodded toward it.
“He is leaving here as fast as the wheels will turn.”
“I’ve got a very accurate memory for faces,” said Croyden. “I couldn’t well be mistaken.”