Almost at once the road dipped so that I lost sight of the inn, but the wind seemed to bring me the sound of angry voices.
CHAPTER 4 The Adventure of the Radical Candidate
Y ou may picture me driving that 40 h.p. car for all she was worth over the crisp moor roads on that shining May morning; glancing back at first over my shoulder, and looking anxiously to the next turning; then driving with a vague eye, just wide enough awake to keep on the highway. For I was thinking desperately of what I had found in Scudder's pocket-book.