Hitherto, in the house, in the bright glare of the gas lights, he had known that the first suspicious movement he made would have ensured his being instantly and remorselessly shot down, his mission unfulfilled.

But here in the open air, in the night that the moon illumined but faintly, it was different, and as he watched for his opportunity he felt that sooner or later it was sure to come.

But Deede Dawson was alert and wary, his pistol never left his hand, he kept so well on his guard he gave Dunn no opening to take him unawares, and Dunn did not wish to run too desperate a chance, since he was sure that sooner or later one giving fair chance of success would present itself.

“Do you want it carried any further?” he asked.  “It’s very heavy.”

“I suppose you mean you’re wondering what’s in it?” said Deede Dawson sharply.

“It’s nothing to me what’s in it—­silver or anything else,” retorted Dunn.  “Do you want me to carry it further, that’s all I asked?”

“No,” answered Deede Dawson.  “No, I don’t.  Do you know, if you knew what was really in it, you’d be surprised?”

“Very likely,” answered Dunn.  “Why not?”

“Yes, you would be surprised,” Deede Dawson repeated, and suddenly shouted into the darkness:  “Are you ready?  Are you ready there?”

Dunn was very startled, for somehow, he had supposed all along that Deede Dawson was quite alone.

There was no answer to his call, but after a minute or two there was the sound of a motor-car engine starting and then a big car came gliding forward and stopped in front of them, driven by a form so muffled in coats and coverings as to be indistinguishable in that faint light.

“Put the case inside,” Deede Dawson said.  “I’ll help you.”

With some trouble they succeeded in getting the case in and Deede Dawson covered it carefully with a big rug.

When he had done so he stepped back.

“Ready, Ella?” he said.

“Yes,” answered the girl’s soft and low voice that already Dunn could have sworn to amidst a thousand others.

CHAPTER X

THE NEW GARDENER

“Go ahead, then,” said Deede Dawson, and the great car with its terrible burden shot away into the night.

For a moment or two Deede Dawson stood looking after it, and then he turned and walked slowly towards the house, and mechanically Dunn followed, the sole thought in his mind, the one idea of which he was conscious, that of Ella driving away into the darkness with the dead body of his murdered friend in the car behind her.

Did she—­know? he asked himself.  Or was she ignorant of what it was she had with her?

It seemed to him that that question, hammering itself so awfully upon his mind and clamouring for an answer, must soon send him mad.

And still before him floated perpetually a picture of long, dark, lonely roads, of a rushing motor-car driven by a lovely girl, of the awful thing hidden in the car behind her.