"Oh, no, no! not so bad as that! Well, any how, we'll soon find out."
We said little more as we tore along the miles. My thoughts were busy with this sudden new surprise. How had Irene discovered that Judson was in Millville, when a few hours before she had thought him at Cape May? To be sure she might have had a letter or telegram in the meantime; or,—and what was more likely the case,—she had heard enough of my telephoning to realize that the Mordaunt party were back at Millville and to act accordingly.
On we flew, and I said no word to Tom, lest I distract his attention from his driving. Moreover, I knew the situation must mystify him quite as much as it did me.
After an incredibly short trip, we whirled in at the hotel entrance. Only to be met by a distracted proprietor, who told us the car had just left with the Mordaunt party. .
"But I told you not to let them get away!" I thundered, in mad disappointment.
"I know it, Mr. King," said Halkett, apologetically, "but I couldn't help it. I had to go over to the bank on an important matter and when I came back the party had just gone. Of course I couldn't forcibly restrain them."
"No, I suppose you couldn't. Which way did they go?"
"That way. The main road to Philadelphia."
"Turn around, Tom! chase them! it's our only chance."
Whiting swung the car around, and we flew out of the gate and along the main road.
"There's little hope," I shouted at him, as we whizzed madly on, "but if they've had tire trouble or anything, we might overtake them. Anyway, we'll have a try at it for a few miles,—and then give it up, if we have to."
Whiting fully entered into the spirit of the thing, and we went faster than I had ever before traveled in a motor-car. The little machine rocked, and I involuntarily grasped at the side of the seat, lest I be flung out. Fortunately the road was clear, and of course a good one, and we kept on. I was just about ready to cry quits, when we saw a car ahead of us. And, moreover, it was the car!
"That's it, Tom!" I shouted; "speed her!" He couldn't speed her any more than he was already doing, but as we had gained on the big car, I believed we could continue to gain.
And we did! Of course Mordaunt's car was not going at top speed, as they didn't know they were being pursued,—a fact which I hoped they would not discover.
But they did discover it. Whether a case of a guilty conscience or not, a man rose from his seat in the tonneau, and turned to look backward. He saw us, and must have realized that we were chasing them, for they immediately began to go faster.
The big car sped ahead, and we followed. "Speed her, Tom!" I cried; "whoop her up!"
"Can't do any more," Tom replied; "this is our best." The poor fellow was straining every nerve, and bent to his wheel in a frenzy of excitement. The man in the car ahead was still standing, and looking backward at us.
The space between the cars lengthened slowly, and I realized that soon they would spin ahead out of our sight. I said nothing to Tom, for I knew he could not get another ounce of speed out of our car.
The big man who stood gazing at us, as the touring car streaked ahead, was doubtless Jack Judson. He was an enormous man, and swung his arms with the free movement of a Westerner. Though I could not see his features distinctly, I felt the triumphant smile on his face, as he took off his soft, flapping hat and waved it at us in farewell.
But even as he replaced that hat, I saw his face more clearly, and I suddenly realized that this meant a lessening of the distance between us!
"Tom!" I fairly yelled in his ear; "they're slowing down! they don't mean to,—but something has happened! we're gaining on them! Never mind, boy, don't even look up,—just saw wood!"
Obediently Tom watched his wheel, and I stared at the car, to which we were certainly creeping nearer. Yes, slowly but steadily nearer, and now I could discern Judson's face clearly, and could see his baffled expression give way to one of new resolve. Stooping an instant, the big man straightened up again, and now in his right hand he held what was unmistakably a deadly sharpshooter!
"Tom!" I cried, actually more alarmed for my unconscious companion than for myself; "Tom,—duck! he's going to shoot us!"
In my excitement, I didn't think of ducking myself, and I sat spellbound, gazing at that weapon aimed surely at us, while Tom, after one glance, dropped his head in an effort to shield himself.
The next instant a report rang out, and as the big car passed out of sight, our pace slackened and we went along limpingly.
The big Westerner had cleverly and purposely punctured one of our front tires!
After the report, Tom's head came up, and he evidently expected, as he was unhurt, to see me wounded or dead beside him. His look of amazement was almost comical, when I said, "He shot at the tire, Whiting, not at us, and with his blooming Western skill, he hit it!"
He had done just that, and now there was nothing for us to do, but to get out and mend the tire and then go home.
We did so, and though we talked the matter over all the way home, we could come to no other conclusion than that Judson was the murderer and that he had escaped us.
"I shall put it straight up to Miss Gardiner," I declared; "she knows about this thing and she must be made to tell."
"She must know about it," said Whiting, "but I can't believe yet that she is wilfully shielding a murderer. It must be from some mistaken sense of duty or loyalty to some one."
"She's certainly very much interested in this man Judson," I returned, a little gloomily. I was really under the spell of Miss Gardiner's fascination, and of course I hoped she could clear up all these uncertainties, but certainly the Judson affair looked ominous.
After luncheon that day, I made a special request of Miss Gardiner that she would confer with Tom Whiting and myself. She agreed willingly enough, and we went to the music-room for our talk.
We had thought it better not to tell the rest of the household about our morning's experience until after the conference with Irene. So I had told Mr. Maxwell that the Mordaunt party had left the hotel before we reached there and told him nothing more. But he discerned somehow, that there was more to the story, and he joined us in the music-room, uninvited.
As there was no real reason why he shouldn't know all about it, I was quite willing he should be there.
In consideration of his deafness, we all sat near together and spoke distinctly.
"To begin with," I said, "I'm positive that John Judson is the man who shot Philip and Mildred."
"And I am equally positive he did not!" declared Irene, her eyes blazing; "and I can prove it!"
"You can!" exclaimed Tom Whiting; "what do you know, Irene, that the rest of us don't know? and why are you willing to defeat the efforts of right and justice?"
"First tell me what happened this morning," said the girl.
So I gave a rapid account of our pursuit of the Mordaunt car, and of Judson's shooting our tire in order to make his own escape.
"Then he got away safely?" asked Irene, eagerly.
"Yes, he is now well on toward Philadelphia. Are you glad he escaped?"
"I certainly am, as the man is absolutely innocent of any connection with our mystery."
"You know this Judson, then, Miss Gardiner?" asked Mr. Maxwell.
"Yes, I know him very well."
"Then you know he was an enemy to Philip?"
"Not exactly an enemy, though I know they never liked each other. But since Mr. Judson is safely away, I will tell you the whole story. He has been a friend of mine for some years, and though he has asked me several times to marry him, I have always refused him. Last week he went to see me at my home in New York, and they told him