I evacuated Sanstead House unostentatiously, setting off on footdown the long drive. My luggage, I gathered, was to follow me tothe station in a cart. I was thankful to Providence for the smallmercy that the boys were in their classrooms and consequentlyunable to ask me questions. Augustus Beckford alone would havehandled the subject of my premature exit in a manner calculated tobleach my hair.

　　It was a wonderful morning. The sky was an unclouded blue, and afresh breeze was blowing in from the sea. I think that somethingof the exhilaration of approaching spring must have stirred me,for quite suddenly the dull depression with which I had started mywalk left me, and I found myself alert and full of schemes.

　　Why should I feebly withdraw from the struggle? Why should I givein to Smooth Sam in this tame way? The memory of that wink cameback to me with a tonic effect. I would show him that I was stilla factor in the game. If the house was closed to me, was there notthe 'Feathers'? I could lie in hiding there, and observe hismovements unseen.

　　I stopped on reaching the inn, and was on the point of enteringand taking up my position at once, when it occurred to me thatthis would be a false move. It was possible that Sam would nottake my departure for granted so readily as I assumed. It wasSam's way to do a thing thoroughly, and the probability was that,if he did not actually come to see me off, he would at least makeinquiries at the station to find out if I had gone. I walked on.

　　He was not at the station. Nor did he arrive in the cart with mytrunk. But I was resolved to risk nothing. I bought a ticket forLondon, and boarded the London train. It had been my intention toleave it at Guildford and catch an afternoon train back toStanstead; but it seemed to me, on reflection, that this wasunnecessary. There was no likelihood of Sam making any move in thematter of the Nugget until the following day. I could take my timeabout returning.

　　I spent the night in London, and arrived at Sanstead by an earlymorning train with a suit-case containing, among other things, aBrowning pistol. I was a little ashamed of this purchase. To theBuck MacGinnis type of man, I suppose, a pistol is as commonplacea possession as a pair of shoes, but I blushed as I entered thegun-shop. If it had been Buck with whom I was about to deal, Ishould have felt less self-conscious. But there was somethingabout Sam which made pistols ridiculous.

　　My first act, after engaging a room at the inn and leaving mysuit-case, was to walk to the school. Before doing anything else,I felt I must see Audrey and tell her the facts in the case ofSmooth Sam. If she were on her guard, my assistance might not beneeded. But her present state of trust in him was fatal.

　　A school, when the boys are away, is a lonely place. The desertedair of the grounds, as I slipped cautiously through the trees, wasalmost eerie. A stillness brooded over everything, as if the placehad been laid under a spell. Never before had I been so impressedwith the isolation of Sanstead House. Anything might happen inthis lonely spot, and the world would go on its way in ignorance.

　　It was with quite distinct relief that, as I drew nearer thehouse, I caught sight of the wire of the telephone among the treesabove my head. It had a practical, comforting look.

　　A tradesman's cart rattled up the drive and disappeared round theside of the house. This reminder, also, of the outside world waspleasant. But I could not rid myself of the feeling that theatmosphere of the place was sinister. I attributed it to the factthat I was a spy in an enemy's country. I had to see without beingseen. I did not imagine that Johnson, grocer, who had just passedin his cart, found anything wrong with the atmosphere. It wascreated for me by my own furtive attitude.

　　Of Audrey and Ogden there were no signs. That they were outsomewhere in the grounds this mellow spring morning I took forgranted; but I could not make an extended search. Already I hadcome nearer to the house than was prudent.

　　My eye caught the telephone wire again and an idea came to me. Iwould call her up from the inn and ask her to meet me. There wasthe risk that the call would be answered by Smooth Sam, but it wasnot great. Sam, unless he had thrown off his role of butlercompletely--which would be unlike the artist that he was--would bein the housekeeper's room, and the ringing of the telephone, whichwas in the study, would not penetrate to him.

　　I chose a moment when dinner was likely to be over and Audreymight be expected to be in the drawing-room.

　　I had deduced her movements correctly. It was her voice thatanswered the call.

　　'This is Peter Burns speaking.'

　　There was a perceptible pause before she replied. When she did,her voice was cold.

　　'Yes?'

　　'I want to speak to you on a matter of urgent importance.'

　　'Well?'

　　'I can't do it through the telephone. Will you meet me in half anhour's time at the gate?'

　　'Where are you speaking from?'

　　'The "Feathers". I am staying there.'

　　'I thought you were in London.'

　　'I came back. Will you meet me?'

　　She hesitated.

　　'Why?'

　　'Because I have something important to say to you--important toyou.'

　　There was another pause.

　　'Very well.'

　　'In half an hour, then. Is Ogden Ford in bed?'

　　'Yes.'

　　'Is his door locked?'

　　'No.'

　　'Then lock it and bring the key with you.'

　　'Why?'

　　'I will tell you when we meet.'

　　'I will bring it.'

　　'Thank you. Good-bye.'

　　I hung up the receiver and set out at once for the schoo............