“I am quite certain, sir,” said the man. “The car was as close to me as I am to you. In fact, I had to step to the pavement to prevent myself being splashed with mud; and there was no motor-cyclist. In fact, the impression I had was that the car was empty.” “Why did you think that?” asked Elk quickly. “It was riding light, for one thing, and the chauffeur was smoking for another. I always associate a smoking chauffeur with an empty car.” “Son,” said the admiring Elk, “there are possibilities about you,” and a recruit to Headquarters was noted. “I’m inclined to agree with that village policeman,” said Dick when they walked back to their machine. “The car was empty when it came through here, and that accounts for the absence of the motor-cyclist. It is between Morby and Wellan that we’ve got to look.” And now they moved at a walking pace. The brackets that held the head-lamps were wrenched round to throw a light upon the ditch and hedge on either side of the road. They had not gone five hundred yards when Elk roared: “Stop!” and jumped into the roadway. He was gone a few minutes, and then he called Dick, and the three men went back to where the detective was standing, looking at a big red motor-cycle that stood under the shelter of a crumbling stone wall. They had passed it without observation, for its owner had chosen the other side of the wall, and it was only the gleam of the light on a handlebar which showed just above its screen, that had led to its detection. Dick ran to the car and backed it so that the wall and machine were visible. The cycle was almost new; it was splattered with mud, and its acetylene head-lamps were cold to the touch. Elk had an inspiration. At the back of the seat was a heavy tool-wallet, attached by a firm strap, and this he began to unfasten. “If this is a new machine, the maker will have put the name and address of the owner in his wallet,” he said. Presently the tool-bag was detached, and Elk unstrapped the last fastening and turned back the flap. “Great Moses!” said Elk. Neatly painted on the undressed leather was: “Joshua Broad, 6, Caverley House, Cavendish Square!” CHAPTER XLI IN QUARRY HOUSE THE first impression that Ella Bennett had when she returned to the kitchen to fasten the door that shut off the sitting-room, was that the tea-cloth, which she had hung up to dry on the line near the lofty ceiling, had fallen. With startling suddenness she was enveloped in the folds of a heavy, musty cloth. And then an arm was flung round her, a hand covered her mouth and drew back her head. She tried to scream, but no sound came. She kicked out toward the door and an arm clutched at her dress and pulled back her foot. She heard the sound of something tearing, and then a strap was put round her ankles. She felt the rush of the cold air as the door was opened, and in another second she was in the garden.