"Quite," I agreed, "and a very dangerous one for Lucy Haldean, as things are at present."
"Very; especially if anything should have happened to the child."
"What are you going to do now?" I inquired, seeing that Thorndyke rode on as if with a definite purpose.
"There is a footpath through the wood," he replied. "I want to examine that. And there is a house behind the wood which I should like to see."
"The house of the mysterious stranger," I suggested.
"Precisely. Mysterious and solitary strangers invite inquiry."
We drew up at the entrance to the footpath, leaving Willett the coachman in charge of the three machines, and proceeded up the narrow track. As we went, Thorndyke looked back at the prints of our feet, and nodded approvingly.
"This soft loam," he remarked, "yields beautifully clear impressions, and yesterday's rain has made it perfect."
We had not gone far when we perceived a set of footprints which I recognized, as did Thorndyke also, for he remarked: "Miss Haldean—running, and alone." Presently we met them again, crossing in the opposite direction, together with the prints of small shoes with very high heels. "Mrs. Haldean on the track of her niece," was Thorndyke's comment; and a minute later we encountered them both again, accompanied by my own footprints.
"The boy does not seem to have crossed the path at all," I remarked as we walked on, keeping off the track itself to avoid confusing the footprints.