So they drove to the lonely patch of woods near the Elmford gate where Garth instructed the driver to wait for them. He led Nora, warning her not to speak, through the obscurity to the entrance. There he paused, and, after a moment, whistled on a low, prolonged note.
Almost immediately the sound of voices came to them and the scraping of feet in the gravel. Two blacker patches scarcely outlined themselves against the black shrubbery.
"Jones!" Garth called softly.
The men approached.
"All right," Garth said. "Go along home. When did they take Mrs. Randall away?"
"Over an hour ago. Thought you were never coming. Spooky hole!"
"No alarms?" Garth asked.
"No," Jones replied, "but I can hear that woman yelling yet."
Garth laughed, uneasily.
"Well, good-night. There's no secret about your leaving, but don't mention at the station that I'm here."
The men merged into the darkness by the gate.
Garth took Nora's arm, and, circling the house at a distance, reached the stone building by the stream. He entered, sniffing suspiciously. When he had closed the door he took his flashlight from his pocket and pressed the control.
"Don't move around, Nora."
Quickly he examined the confusion of footprints.
