.. No! She had been _afraid_--horribly
afraid of some ulterior purpose behind his innocent courtesy in driving
Penelope Crain to Breakaway Inn.
Well, speculation now was idle, he told himself, as he noted that his
speedometer had dropped from sixty to thirty in his preoccupation. He
speeded again, but was soon forced to stop and ask his way into Primrose
Meadows. The vague directions of a farmer's son lost him nearly eight
precious minutes, during which his friend, Captain Strawn of the
Homicide Squad, might be bungling things rather badly. But at last he
found the ornate pair of pillars spanned by the painted legend,
"Primrose Meadows," and drove through them into what soon became a
rutted lane. Almost a quarter of a mile from the entrance he found the
isolated house, unmistakable because of the line-up of private cars
parked before the short stretch of paved sidewalk, and the added
presence of police cars and motorcycles.
Dundee turned his own car into the driveway leading from the street
along the right side of the house toward the two-car garage in the rear.
Ahead of his roadster were two other cars, and a glance toward the open
garage showed that a Ford coupe was housed there.
As he was descending Captain Strawn's voice hailed him from an open
window of the room nearest the garage.
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