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.
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