CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The Millpool
T
he
car sped down the narrow lane, its giant headlights picking out the familiar scene and lending it a strange unreality as if the mill and the silent house had been part of some enormous stage set. Only the roar of the water and the steady chugging of the wheel were alive.
Unarmed save for his improvised sling, Campion drove on savagely and brought the car to a standstill within a foot of the race.
“Lost your way, Everett?” Savanake’s voice sounded hearteningly casual.
Campion made an inaudible reply and, springing out of the car, threw up the bonnet. He bent over the spotless engine for some moments, trusting to the shadow of the hood to hide his face.
Presently, as he had hoped, the car door opened and footsteps advanced. Mr. Campion gripped his
