Deborah looked relieved, yet faintly puzzled. “What is that, Mr. Davis?”
“Do you think you could describe the old man whose mask you pulled off in the automobile? We have reason to believe he is the leader of these kidnappers.”
“I am sure I can. You must know that the car was a seven-passenger Packard. I was placed in the middle of the rear seat between two men, who held me. The man you mentioned was sitting in one of the two extra seats that let down, just in front of me. Although I was still struggling with my captors, and half frantic, I noticed him particularly because he wore a black mask that entirely covered his face. Above the mask, a fringe of white hair showed at the edge of a black silk skullcap. Although I never saw him standing, I judged he was not much taller than five feet two or three. He was thin and small-boned, and narrow-shouldered. His head was very large, it seemed too large to be supported by his skinny neck. His voice was high-pitched and shrill. He wheezed, too, as though he might have asthma....”
“Splendid!” said Mr. Dixon, as the nurse brought Deborah a glass of water. “What did he look like when you pulled off the mask?”
Deborah smiled a little grimly. “For all the world like an old bird of prey, Mr. Davis. And a very much frightened bird, at that. Those men, you see, had gagged me with a handkerchief. I managed to get the thing out of my mouth and in the struggle that followed, the old man, who was wheezing orders all the time, leaned toward me. He tried to get hold of my right arm which I had wrenched free. The man on that side of me was temporarily out of the running, because I had jabbed him with my elbow just under the heart a moment before. Well, when the old man leaned toward me I made a grab for his head. My idea was to get a grip on the back of his thin neck and hurl him into the man on my left who had me by the arm. As it was, the old boy drew back suddenly, and instead of his neck, I got the mask.”
“Can you describe his features?”
“I’m quite sure I can. His forehead, below the fringe of white hair, was high and broad; the brow of a scholar, almost. Bushy white eyebrows shaded little dark eyes, brown, probably, which seemed too small for his face. Between these a very thin, high-bridged nose jutted out. He was clean-shaven, with rather high cheek bones and hollow cheeks. His mouth below his beak of a nose was a straight, thin-lipped line. From his nostrils, two deep furrows ran down to the corners of his mouth, and his chin was long and pointed. His throat was flabby and the Adam’s apple prominent. Oh, I forgot to say that, his entire face, nose and all was crisscrossed with the deep wrinkles of old age.”
“You are a most observant young lady, Miss Lightfoot. I never expected to receive such a detailed description. I can picture the old villain perfectly.”
“I am glad.” Deborah smiled back at him. “I am Seminole, you must remember, Mr. Davis. Indians, men and women, are trained from childhood to notice detail.”
The secret service man nodded. Then suddenly he uttered a sharp exclamation and leaned toward her.