There was a sudden tap at the front door, and then, without further warning or delay, it was opened, and a police officer stood there.
"Is Mr. Clyde in the house?" he asked directly.
"No," Whyte answered.
The officer glanced about the room with a swift survey of us all.
"He's gone, then?" he said.
No one answered.
"Sorry to have troubled you," he said, touching his helmet, and immediately went out. We heard low voices and hurried steps passing around the house.
"Oh, they'll find him!" cried Mrs. Whyte in dismay. "He can't have got a safe distance yet."
"Hush!" warned Whyte. He stepped to the library and looked out. Then after a moment he came back to us. "They are watching the house. The longer they watch, the better! Do you know his plans, Hilton?"
I shook my head. Miss Thurston had faded away like a wraith but Mrs. Whyte and Jean were hanging on our words. "No, I have no idea where he is going, or what he means to do. The police are very close on his heels. I confess it looks dubious that he will get very far."