When Crocker and Lonsdale entered the Hathaway home Josie O’Gorman briefly outlined to them the coming of Danny and of hearing the automobile. Crocker turned instantly and went through the kitchen into the courtyard and across to the old stable.

Here it was plainly evident to his practiced eye that not only had a machine come and gone, but at least three individual pairs of feet had plodded around the doorway. Not pausing to investigate the footprints further than to assure himself that one deep imprint was of a small and high-heeled slipper, Crocker strode back to the house. The immediate thing to do was to trace the car before the lowering storm broke in all its fury and completely erased the tracks.

When he reached the house he found Aunt Sally and Uncle Ben fussily scurrying about, trying to help and managing most successfully to be in everybody’s way. “Oh, Lawdy, Lawdy,” groaned Aunt Sally, as she slipped an all-enveloping slicker upon Josie’s shoulders, “dat lightnin’ sho’ am de bad sign. I jes’ opine I ain’ nevah gwine fo’ to see ma lamb agin!” And then the woolly head of good old Aunt Sally was hidden by her huge checked apron, which she flung over it, and her body rocked and swayed with the moans and sobs that shook her.

Uncle Eben took special charge of his beloved master, the Colonel, bringing his big sou’wester and cheering Grandpa Jim with the helpful assurance: “Massa Jim, Ah knowed they’s somethin’ awful gwine fo’ to happen caze las’ night Ah dreamt of a white mule. Ain’t nevah knowed it to fail to mean death and destruction when Ah dream of a white mule.”

At last they climbed into the car, Crocker and Lonsdale in the front, Josie O’Gorman and Colonel Hathaway in the tonneau. The storm seemed just about to crash in all its fury above their heads and the lightning was sharp and incessant. By the powerful searchlight of the car they could easily trace the route of the machine they were pursuing until they reached the macadam road. Here the wind in all its previous fury had blow away all traces of the wheels. Lonsdale stopped and Crocker climbed out to investigate the ground more closely. As he did so the unmistakable chug-chug of a Ford was heard evidently coming at full speed down the road.

Instantly alert, at Crocker’s command Lonsdale placed his automobile directly across the road. The Ford came on until almost upon the obstruction and then stopped with a jerk. As the searchlight played upon the new arrival, Josie with a sense of disappointment recognized Will White from the grocery store.

“Good heavens, man,” said Lonsdale testily, “were you trying to run us down?”

Will White laughed his slow, lazy laugh. “Naw, not quite,” he said, “but I was allowin’ as how Uncle Will and me might hit it home afore the rain.”

As Lonsdale backed the car out of the way, the Colonel’s ever ready courtesy came forth.

“So this is your uncle?” he asked, kindly nodding to the quiet elderly man who sat beside Will White, his face perhaps a trifle pale.

“I’m named for him,” vouchsafed Will, his drawl was must pronounced. Then: “Are you in trouble, Colonel?”

Quickly the whole auto load reached the same decision. They would say nothing of their search to this village gossip unless they found themselves powerless. Then they would wake the town. So with a curt denial and a hasty apology for blocking the traffic, the larger car sped on.

Finally, Crocker stopped at a farmhouse and roused the farmer from his sleep by many bangs against the door.

The farmer came down cross and sleepy, but at least Crocker got from him the information that they had heard no auto pass that evening. “And only a fool would be out a night like this,” added the man as he slammed the door.

The rain was now beating down and in a minute it was falling in such torrents that the road could not be seen an inch ahead. The roar of the thunder came the moment the zigzag flash was seen gashing across the sky, and even as they gazed in helpless awe, they saw a giant oak ripped limb from limb by the lightning.

Josie O’Gorman shrank back and hid her face. Colonel Hathaway, drawn and gray at the thought of his beloved grandchild out in all the horror of the elements, breathed a prayer for her safety. The two men on the front seat tried in vain to light cigars, and vigorously cursed the luck that brought this storm which would wipe away all traces of the runaway car.

The roadway was now a veritable river, the water surging down from the hill above and whirling about the wheels of the car. It was impossible to stay where they were, so with infinite care, Lonsdale finally turned them about. Then splashing through the flood, feeling every inch of the road, they slowly made their way toward home.

Because of its fury, the storm spent itself quickly. It was with intense relief that they noticed the first signs of first abatement in the slackening of the rainfall and the lessening of the wind. The thunder was already rumbling in the distance, and a whippoorwill sang refreshed from a tree near by. Only the roaring floods along the highway and the stripped oak standing stark and naked in the gathering moonlight remained to show the destruction of that night.

As the searchers went more quickly now, the spirits of the occupants of Lonsdale’s car were more depressed than ever. Their search was absolutely fruitless.

Suddenly not far ahead of them they saw the faint gleam of the red light of an auto. Putting on speed they splashed along regardless of the smoothness or the roughness of the road. Then Grandpa Jim gave an exclamation of rejoicing.

“It’s Mary Louise’s car!” he cried.

Faster went the Lonsdale car, gaining, ever gaining on its object. Now they honked the horn repeatedly but the escapers evidently paid no heed. Though their speed did not seem to increase, neither did it slacken.

“Better not run a risk of their escaping again,” muttered Crocker, and leaning carefully over the side of the car he fired two shots into the rear tire of the machine. The effect was instantaneous. With a loud explosion, the car swerved quickly, slowed down and then came to a dead stop.