Suddenly Mortlake ran the auto through a gap in the hedge at one side of the road, and drove it in among a clump of alders, where there was no danger of it being seen.

“This is the place,” said he, as they came to a standstill.

“And a nice, lonely sort of place, too, hey?” chirped old Harding; “just the place for a traitor to his country to——­”

“Hush!” said the young officer seriously.  “Let us wait and see if young Prescott completes the case against himself before we condemn him, Mr. Harding.”

“Humph!” grunted the old money-bags.  “In my opinion, he is condemned already.  Never did like that boy, something sneaky about him.  Hey, hey, hey?”

The officer’s heart was too sick within him to answer.  He drew out his watch and looked at it in a fleeting glimpse of moonshine.  It was almost the time that Mortlake had declared had been agreed upon for the consummation of the plot.

“At all events, I shall know within a few minutes if this story is to be credited or condemned,” thought Lieut.  Bradbury.

Old Harding and Mortlake, the latter leading and beckoning to Lieut.  Bradbury, slipped cautiously through the alders, and took up a position in the clump at the edge of the road behind a big bowlder, where they could command a good view of the thoroughfare without being seen themselves.  The officer, with a keener sense than ever of doing something dishonorable, joined them.

“Hark!” exclaimed Mortlake presently.

But, although they all strained their ears, they could hear no sound except the cracking of a tree limb, as it rubbed against another branch in the night wind.

“You are sure this was the place?” asked the officer.

“So my man told me,” rejoined Mortlake.  “You know, I relied absolutely on his word for this thing, all the way through.  I, myself, know nothing of it.”

He emphasized these last words, as if he wished them to stick in his hearer’s memory.

Suddenly, however, a new sound struck into the silence.

It was a heavy footstep, gradually drawing closer.  Round the dark corner of the road came a tall form in a long coat and with a slouch hat pulled down well over its eyes.

Lieutenant Bradbury could have groaned.  Mortlake nudged him triumphantly.

“Well,” he said, “I guess part of it’s true, anyhow.”

“I’m afraid so,” breathed the officer.

“I thought so.  Hey, hey, I thought so,” chuckled old Harding rustily.

The tall figure came on until it was almost opposite the bushes where the three hidden onlookers were concealed.  It looked about in some impatience, tapping one of its feet querulously.  Then it fell to pacing up and down.

“Evidently the boy is late,” thought the lieutenant.  And then a glad guess shot through his mind.  “Perhaps the boy has thought better of it.”

But even as he felt a great sense of relief at this supposition, there came a low whistle from farther down the road.  It was answered by the figure opposite the hidden party, which instantly stopped its pacing to and fro.