Half an hour later he was ready to start for home.
"It's the slenderest chance, Kitty," he reminded, her gravely. "They may not go near London. . . . But it's the only chance!"
"I know," she assented with equal gravity.
"And in any case I can't get her back here till the morning. . . .
Good heavens!"—a new thought striking him. "What about the mater?
She'll be scared stiff if I don't turn up in the evening! Probably
she'll ring up the police, thinking we've had a smash-up in the car.
That would settle everything!"
"Don't worry about it," urged Kitty. "I'll invent something—'phone her later on to say you're stopping here for the night."
Sandy nodded soberly.
"That'll do it, and I'll—Oh, hang! What about your servants? They'll talk."
"And I shall lie," replied Kitty valiantly. "Nan will be staying the night with friends. . . . Each of you stopping just where you aren't!"—with a short strained laugh. "Oh, leave things to me at this end! I'll manage, somehow. Only bring her back—bring her back, Sandy!"