‘Pretty well,’ said Prenderby. ‘He’s heading for Chelmsford, I should say, or somewhere round there. I think he’ll have some difficulty in shaking us off.’
The big car ahead was now speeding away from them rapidly and Prenderby had his hands full to keep them anywhere in sight. In Chelmsford they lost sight of it altogether and were forced to inquire of a policeman in the deserted High Street.
The placid country bobby took the opportunity of inspecting their licence and then conceded the information that a ‘vehicle of a type now obsolete, and bearing powerful lamps’ had passed through the town, taking the Springfield road for Kelvedon and Colchester some three minutes before their own arrival.
The Riley sped on down the winding road through the town, Martin cursing vigorously.
‘Now we’re sunk,’ he said. ‘Missed them sure as Pancake-tide. They’ve only got to nip into a side road and shut off their lamps and we’re done. In fact,’ he went on disconsolately, ‘I don’t know if there’s any point in going on at all now.’
‘There’s only one point,’ cut in Abbershaw quietly. ‘If by chance they are going somewhere definite – I mean if they want to get to a certain spot in set time – they’ll probably go straight on and trust to luck that they’ve shaken us off.’
‘That’s right,’ said Martin. ‘Let’s go on full tilt to Colchester and ask there. No one could miss a bus like that. It looks as if it ought not to be about alone. Full steam ahead, Michael.’
‘Ay, ay, sir,’ said Prenderby cheerfully and trod on the accelerator.
They went through Witham at a speed that would have infuriated the local authorities, but still the road was ghostly and deserted. At length, just outside Kelvedon, far away in the distance there appeared the faint haze of giant head-lights against the trees.
Martin whooped.