beginning to blink out, down below in the town.
There being practically no cars out at this hour, Dick had a clear way for all of the speed which he dared upon this crooked, winding road, and also it afforded him a free mind to work upon the question before him—the question of where to begin his search—and as usual his mind reverted to Bert Sands and her clear little head, ready to grasp every phase of a situation at the first glance and reacting instantly with some wise suggestion for action. And therefore, at the first possible point he dashed for a telephone and called her number, praying that she might be at home.
Jack Sands answered the call. Dick was brief. "Dick Harris speaking," he said; "They've got Evalani. Ask Bert what to do."
Almost instantly Jack replied, half laughing, "Bert's half way to the garage. She says to go to an isolated bungalow on the beach, a few miles beyond Waimea Canyon. Go Leilehua way. I'm coming, too. Run easy in town; don't let the speed-cop get you. Go to it!"
Dick was back in his car in a flash, and then out through town, keeping as much as possible to the less traveled streets and with difficulty holding in his car, giving thanks for Jack's warning, since to be held up now would be maddening.
It was dark by the time that he was clear of the town and running through Moanalua gardens; but
