They got into the car, and McTuft, who knew the country well, took the wheel; there was no need for any deliberation on the way, both Wallion and Tom knew exactly what to do. Dixon and his associates must be taken at any cost, in the least possible space of time, and sent to prison. Tom said nothing, but he was prepared. The picture of Elaine's sweet, innocent face among such repulsive surroundings as "Silent" Ferail's Assyrian profile, Doctor Corman's satanic features and mocking smile, and Dixon's Nero-like head, almost drove him frantic.
The motor flew along like an arrow and left Corman's dark, empty house far behind; the lights of Seattle disappeared from sight and all that lay before them was a desolate, white road, leading ... where?
CHAPTER XV
HOTEL "GOLDEN SNAKE"
A cool breeze was blowing from the sea, and far away in Puget Sound hoarse and peculiar signals, proceeding from an invisible steamer, filled the air. The last breath of wind, however, soon ceased, the atmosphere grew more oppressive and finally resolved itself into fog. The motor rushed on with careless speed, the impulsive, gruff Scotsman proving himself an ideal chauffeur. Fortunately, at that hour the road was almost deserted, and by the white light of the lamps the traces of Dixon's car, in double, unbroken lines, were plainly visible. All at once McTuft remarked:
"One would think they were making for the Canadian frontier."
"They won't get there," said Wallion, "it's much too far."
"Well, it is a good bit off, as you say," assented McTuft drily, "and I guess Johnstone has given the alarm by now."
They were getting near the water and, still following the track, they turned into a road which it seemed likely ran parallel with the shore in a northwesterly direction.
"Perhaps they intend going on board some vessel," suggested Tom uneasily.