In their circuit
they had now reached the roads pointing to the southward.
"We'll try this one more garage," said Dean, as they approached a
wayside shed bearing a large sign "Gasoline."
"I fear it is only wasting time," said Jane wearily.
"Don't you want the Hoffs caught?" snapped her companion.
"Of course I do," she retorted heatedly, "but I don't see you catching
them."
"I believe you are half glad of it," snarled her escort as he brought
the machine to a stop and repeated his usual question.
"Sure there was a car with two men in it like you describe passed here,"
the man replied to their amazement and delight. "They stopped here for
gas, as they generally do. About three hours ago, I guess it
musta been."
Dean shot a triumphant glance at Jane.
"An old man with a gray beard and a smooth-shaven young man
driving--does that describe them?" he repeated.
"That's them," said the garage proprietor. "They come through here every
few days, always about the same time."
"Where do they go?" questioned Dean eagerly, feeling at last that the
scent was growing hot.
The man shook his head in a puzzled way.
"I've often wondered about that. They're always heading south and
appear to be in a powerful hurry, but the funny part of it is I ain't
never seen them coming back.
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