No answer came to my questions, and I reflected that none would ever come, if we sat here.  Yet there seemed to be no way to turn, without risking putting ourselves in a worse position than before.  At least, until we had some better plan of campaign, we occupied a strategic advantage in Whitney’s own house.

The hours of the night wore on.  Midnight came.  This inaction was killing.  Anything would be better than that

Suddenly the telephone startled us.  We had wanted it to ring, yet when it rang we were afraid of it.  What was its message?  It was with palpitating hearts that we listened, while Craig answered.

“Yes, Burke,” we heard him reply, “this is Kennedy.”

There came a pause during which we could scarcely wait.

“Where are you now?  Cold Stream.  That is about twelve miles from Rockledge—­not on the New York road—­the other road.  I see.  All right.  We’ll be there.  Yes, wait for us.”

As Craig hung up the receiver, we crowded forward.  “Have they found her?” asked Lockwood hoarsely.

“It was from Burke,” replied Kennedy deliberately.  “He is at a place called Cold Stream, twelve miles from here.  He tells me that we can find it easily—­on a state road, at a sharp curve that has been widened out, just this side of the town.  There has been an accident—­Whitney’s car is wrecked.”

Lockwood seized his elbow.  “My God,” he exclaimed, “tell me—­she isn’t—­hurt, is she?  Quick!”

“So far Burke has not been able to discover a trace of a thing, except the wrecked car,” replied Kennedy.  “I told him I would be over directly.  Lockwood, you may take Jameson and Alfonso.  I will go with the Senora and their driver.”

I saw instantly why he had divided the party.  Neither mother nor son was to have a chance to slip away from us.  Surely both Lockwood and I should be a match for Alfonso.  Senora de Moche he would trust to none but himself.

Eagerly now we prepared for the journey, late though it was.  No one now had a thought of rest.  There could be no rest with that mystery of Inez challenging us.

We were off at last, Lockwood’s car leading, for although he did not know the roads exactly, he had driven much about the country.  I should have liked to have sat in front with him, but it seemed safer to stay in the back with Alfonso.  In fact, I don’t think Lockwood would have consented, otherwise, to have his rival back of him.

Kennedy and the Senora made a strange pair, the ancient order and the ultra-modern.  There was a peculiar light in her eyes that gleamed forth at the mere mention of the words, “wreck.”  Though she said nothing, I knew that through her mind was running the one tenacious thought.  It was the working out of the curse!  As for Craig, he was always seeking the plausible, natural reason for what to the rest of us was inexplicable, often supernatural.  To him she was a fascinating study.