Laughingly he waved aside their warnings and since one road was like another for his purpose set off across the nearest marsh track in the general direction of Dungeness. An hour's walking on the lonely wastes convinced him that the old folk knew what they were talking about. His map and pocket compass helped him only vaguely, for as he branched into deeper recesses there were twists and tangles, tracks that came to an abrupt nothingness, and unexpected watercourses that barred his way. Once or twice he located himself by the aid of occasional "lookers," as the shepherds of the district are locally known. After all, it did not much matter whether he went in one direction or another. He wished there were more shepherds. If there had been a big motor car traversing these rough tracts one or the other of them would surely have seen it. Many hours went by, however, and all his inquiries met with negative result. He was by now completely lost. An hour had gone since he had seen a living soul and he sat down to eat a sandwich, with which he had had the forethought to provide himself, and to consider the position. He was tired and the sun was hot. He stretched himself for a short nap after his frugal repast. When he awoke he glanced at his watch and swore to himself as he realised that he had slept for over two hours. He stood up and stretched himself, and then suddenly dropped at full length in the coarse grass and stared intently across the marsh about which a slight haze was already beginning to rise. Something less than a mile away a car was slowly making its way. The distance was too great for him to discern anything more than that it was a big saloon, but he had not the slightest doubt that it was the very car that he was seeking. It was utterly improbable that any other would be risking its springs in this desolate region. He lay very still till the motor disappeared from sight. Then he took a compass bearing to the point at which he had seen it. He stuck his stick in the ground and tied a handkerchief to it, to afford him a very necessary point from which to work, for by now he knew that it might cost him three miles of roundabout walking to make his way to the spot even though it was under a mile away in a straight line. Then he set off. Again and again he had to retrace his steps, to find some way of crossing the many dykes, and he was duly thankful that he had had the intelligence to make an improvised flag which afforded him a definite clue to his starting point in the dreary sameness of the marsh. Something over an hour of tedious walking it took him to cover the distance. At last a hazardous journey over a slimy plank brought him to a narrow and almost imperceptible roadway. And there imprinted on the turf were the slight but unmistakeable tyre marks of a big motor car. Labar whistled cheerfully as he bent to examine them. CHAPTER XXII