“But where is Mr. Briggs?” demanded his brother, again.
“Goodness only knows. Those thieves are onto the fact that their car is the mate to Mr. Briggs’ auto. It’s plain they are using that fact to hide their tracks.”
“And meanwhile,” repeated Dan, for the third time, “what has happened to Mr. Briggs?”
“I give it up!”
“I’m going to find out,” declared Dan. “Here! you ’tend to this. I want to telephone.”
But when he ran in to the hotel office he found one of the racing timekeepers there and from him he learned that Mr. Briggs’ car was reported about fifty miles back on the road. It had suffered a breakdown.
“Are you sure it’s his car?” demanded Dan. “I tell you that there is another maroon car on the road.”
“Not in the list of racers,” said the timekeeper.
“No, sir. But are you sure it is Mr. Briggs that has broken down?”
“I just spoke to him over the telephone. I know him personally. I know his voice.”