He took it carefully, testing the snow depth with his wheels. But the tires were able to find purchase, and he went up the slight rise with less difficulty than he'd anticipated, the powerful motor coming to his aid.

A dog began to bark with savage ferocity as Rutledge approached the yard behind the house. It was not on a chain and ran bounding beside the motorcar, lips drawn back in a snarl. Even after he'd come to a full stop, it put its forelegs on the motorcar and dared him to step down.

“Set your foot within range, and he'll clamp his teeth on it,” Hamish warned.

Rutledge blew the horn. Once and then again.

A lamp flared in an upstairs window. The sash went up and a gray head looked out.

“Who are you? What the hell do you want, waking the family like that?”

“Call off your dog and come down. I'm a policeman, and I have a woman here. There's been an accident. She needs help and she needs it quickly.”

“You're no policeman I'm familiar with!”

“Inspector Rutledge, from London. I've come north at the request of the Chief Constable to assist Inspector Greeley in Urskdale.”

“And I could call myself the King of Siam, if I was of a mind to. I'm not opening my door this night to any man without proper authority.”

The dog was growling deep in its throat, reflecting his master's truculence.

Rutledge shifted the motorcar into reverse. “Please yourself. Inspector Greeley will be expecting you at Urskdale gaol tomorrow at noon.” It was the voice of command. “The charge will be obstructing a police officer in the course of his duties.” The vehicle began to move.

“Stay where you are!” Cursing, the man withdrew his head and after several minutes, he appeared again at the yard door. He was in no hurry, weighing the situation with the hardheaded prudence of the North. Rutledge waited impatiently but said nothing, nearly certain that there was a shotgun somewhere within easy reach.