"No need of Bertillon's palette of human hair to identify that,"
he exclaimed." There isn't time to study it and if there were it
would be unnecessary. She was with him, all right."
"Yes," agreed Lockwood. "But where is she now--where is he? Could
they have been hurt, picked up by some one and carried where they
could get aid?"
Burke shook his head. "I inquired at the nearest house ahead. I
had to do it in order to telephone. They knew nothing."
"But they are gone," persisted Lockwood. "There is the bottom of
the bank. You can see that they are not here."
Kennedy had taken the light and climbed the bank again and was now
going over the road as minutely as if he were searching for a lost
diamond.
"Look!" he exclaimed.
Where the Whitney car had skidded and gone over the bank, the
tires had dug deep into the top dressing, making little mounds.
Across them now we could see the tracks of other tires that had
pressed down the mounds.
"Some one else has been here," reconstructed Kennedy. "He passed,
then stopped and backed up. Perhaps they were thrown out,
unconscious, and he picked them up."
It seemed to be the only reasonable supposition.
"But they knew nothing at the next house," persisted Burke.
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