"There you are," he said to Simon, straightening his back. "I have made out thirteen distinct tracks, left by people who certainly were not travelling together. In addition to these thirteen highwaymen—for a man has to be a pretty tough lot to risk the journey—there are two parties ahead of us: first, a party of four horsemen and then, walking behind them—how many hours later I couldn't say—a party of seven on foot, forming Rolleston's gang. Look, here's the print of the patterned rubber soles."
"Yes, yes," said Simon, recognizing the footprint which he had seen two days before. "And what do you conclude?"
"I conclude that Rolleston, as we knew, is in it and that all these gentry, separate prowlers and parties, are making for the Queen Mary, the last large Channel boat sunk and the nearest to this part of the coast. Think, what a scoop for marauders!"
"Let's push on!" cried the young man, who was now uneasy at the thought that he might fail in the mission which Isabel had allotted to him.
One by one, five other tracks coming from the north—from Eastbourne, the Indian thought—joined the first. In the end they made such an intricate tangle that Antonio had to give up counting them. However, the footprints of the rubber soles and those of the four horses continued to appear in places.
They marched on for some time. The landscape showed little variety, revealing sandy plains and hills, stretches of mud, rivers and pools, of water left by the sea and filled with fish which had taken refuge there. It was all monotonous, without beauty or majesty, but strange, as anything that has never been seen before or anything that is shapeless must needs be strange.
"We are getting near," said Simon.
"Yes," said the Indian, "the tracks are coming in from all directions; and here even are marauders returning northwards, laden with their swag."
It was now four in the afternoon. Not a rift was visible in the ceiling of motionless clouds. Rain fell in great, heavy drops. For the first time they heard the overhead roar of an aeroplane flying above the insuperable obstacle. . . . They followed a depression in the ground, succeeded by hills. And suddenly a bulky object rose before them. It was the Queen Mary. She was bent in two, almost like a broken toy. And nothing was more lamentable, nothing gave a more dismal impression of ruin and destruction than those two lifeless halves of a once so powerful thing.
There was no one near the wreck.