Dusk was beginning to fall and, although the nature of his proposed operations demanded secrecy, he recognized that every hour was precious.  Accordingly he walked immediately back to the spot at which he had left the car and, following the porter’s directions, drove over the line at the level crossing immediately beyond the station, and proceeded up a tree-lined road until he found himself skirting the railing of an extensive tract of park land.

Presently heavy gates appeared in view; and then, to the right, another lane in which the growing dusk had painted many shadows.  He determined to drive on until he should find a suitable hiding place.  And at a spot, as he presently learned, not a hundred yards from Hillside, he discovered an opening in the hedge which divided the road from a tilled field.  Into this, without hesitation, he turned the racer, backing in, in order that he might be ready for a flying start in case of emergency.  Once more he set out on foot.

He proceeded with caution, walking softly close to the side of the road, and frequently pausing to listen.  Advancing in this fashion, he found himself standing ere long before an open gateway, and gazing along a drive which presented a vista of utter blackness.  A faint sound reached his ear—­the distant drone of a powerful engine.  A big car was mounting the slope from Lower Claybury Station.

CHAPTER XVIII

WHAT HAPPENED TO HARLEY—­CONTINUED

Not until Harley came within sight of the house, a low, rambling Jacobean building, did he attempt to take cover.  He scrambled up a tree and got astride of a wall.  A swift survey by his electric torch of the ground on the other side revealed a jungle of weeds in either direction.

He uttered an impatient exclamation.  He calculated that the car was now within a hundred yards of the end of the lane.  Suddenly came an idea that was born of emergency.  Swarming up the tree to where its dense foliage began, he perched upon a stout bough and waited.

Three minutes later came a blaze of light through the gathering darkness, and the car which he had last seen at the Savoy was turned into the drive, and presently glided smoothly past him below.

The interior lights were extinguished, so that he was unable to discern the occupants.  The house itself was also unilluminated.  And when the car pulled up before the porch, less than ten yards from his observation post, he could not have recognized the persons who descended and entered Hillside.

Indeed, only by the sound of the closing door did he know that they had gone in.  But two figures were easily discernible; and he judged them to be those of Ormuz Khan and his secretary.  He waited patiently, and ere long the limousine was turned in the little courtyard before the porch and driven out into the lane again.  He did not fail to note that, the lane regained, the chauffeur headed, not toward Lower Claybury, but away from it.