"He's still
following the two cars. He thinks the one with the woman in it is
Whitney's, all right. But they've got off the main road. They must
think they're being followed.
"Or else have changed their destination," returned Craig. "Tell
him that. Maybe Whitney had no intention of coming up here. He may
have done this thing just to throw these people off up here, too.
I can't say. I can tell better whether he intended to come back
after I've got this safe open. I'll let you know."
Kennedy rang off.
"Any news of Inez?" asked Lockwood who had been fuming with
impatience.
"She's probably on her way up here," returned Craig briefly,
taking up the blow-pipe again.
Alfonso remained silent. The Senora could scarcely hide her
excitement. If there were anything in telepathy, I am sure that
she read everything that was said over the wire.
Quickly Craig resumed his work, biting through the solid steel as
if it had been mere pasteboard, the blow-pipe showering on each
side a brilliant spray of sparks, a gaudy, pyrotechnic display.
Suddenly, with a quick motion, Kennedy turned off the acetylene
and oxygen. The last bolt had been severed, the lock was useless.
A gentle push of the hand, and he swung the once impregnable door
on its delicately poised hinges as easily as if he had merely
said, "Open sesame.
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