They all realized this.
"I believe," said Mershone, rising abruptly, "I'll go and join the search.

Fogerty has arrested me, but you needn't worry about my trying to escape.

I don't care what becomes of me, now, and I'm going straight to join the detective." They allowed him to go without protest, and he buttoned his coat and set out in the storm to find the others.

Fogerty and Arthur were by this time in the lane back of the grounds, where the detective was advancing slowly with his eyes fixed on the ground.
"The tracks are faint, but easily followed," he was saying, "The high heels of her shoes leave a distinct mark." When Mershone joined them Arthur scowled at the fellow but said nothing.
Fogerty merely smiled.
From the lane the tracks, already nearly obliterated by the fast falling snow, wandered along nearly a quarter of a mile to a crossroads, where they became wholly lost.
Fogerty looked up and down the roads and shook his head with a puzzled expression.
"We've surely traced her so far," said he, "but now we must guess at her further direction.

You'll notice this track of a wagon.