She could not risk going in the door, lest she run into Larry or Cathy drinking a nocturnal glass of milk or Mike raiding the refrigerator for snacks. He got out in much the same way from the Gatehouse,—stole the keys, and passed through a room where I was sitting half-asleep in a chair. This path, bordered on each side by high privet hedges of the most beautiful green, soon brought them to a stile. “Mr. Monsieur is going inside perhaps?” But Sir John’s eyes were still riveted upon the poster, and his heart was beating with unaccustomed force. McClintock watched her interestedly until her golden head vanished below; then, with tolerant pity, he looked down at Spurlock, who had closed his eyes. The turnkey looked round the next moment, but the manoeuvre escaped his observation.
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