"The wound at the back of the head was the same as in your grandfather's case?"
"Exactly."
"Then what good am I? Why am I routed out?"
"A formality," Bobby answered. "Katherine thought if we got you quickly you might do something. Anyway, she wanted your advice."
The woods closed about them. Again the lights seemed to push back a palpable barrier.
"I can't work miracles," the doctor was murmuring. "I can't bring men back to life. Such a wound leaves no ground for hope. You'd better have sent for the police at once. Hello!"
He strained forward, peering around the windshield.
"Funny!" Paredes called.
Bobby's eyes were on the road.
"What do you see?"