We rode on through the town out on to
the country road; but although there were several tracks of motors,
Thorndyke shook his head at them all. "I have been studying those tyres
until I know them by heart," he said. "No; either he is in the town, or
he has left it by a side road."
There was nothing for it but to put up the horse and the machines at the
hotel, while we walked round to reconnoitre; and this we did, tramping
up one street and down another, with eyes bent on the ground,
fruitlessly searching for a trace of the missing car.
Suddenly, at the door of a blacksmith's shop, Thorndyke halted. The shop
had been kept open late for the shoeing of a carriage horse, which was
just being led away, and the smith had come to the door for a breath of
air. Thorndyke accosted him genially.
"Good-evening. You are just the man I wanted to see. I have mislaid the
address of a friend of mine, who, I think, called on you this
afternoon--a lame gentleman who walks with a stick. I expect he wanted
you to pick a lock or make him a key."
"Oh, I remember him!" said the man. "Yes, he had lost his latchkey, and
wanted the lock picked before he could get into his house.
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