Themselves unseen, they were watching intently what passed within the room, and listening to every syllable that was spoken by Helga and Drexel.
So absorbed were the two spies, and so utterly unsuspicious of my presence, that I might have risked closing in upon them, had it not been that the broad drive lay between me and them and the slightest sound of the gravel under my footsteps would have spoilt everything.
I chafed at the enforced inaction, but the issues were those of life and death, and I dared not take such a risk. Helga’s life, as well as mine, was in the balance.
At last the minutes of inaction were at an end.
Both men, as if at some signal from Drexel, sprang to their feet and stepped into the room, and I saw the flashing look of anger from Helga at their entrance.
The noise they made in entering gave me the chance I wanted. Two or three light springing tiptoe leaps put me across the drive, and I hurried over the smooth lawn with eager feet, drawing out my revolver as I ran, until, imitating their tactics, I lay full length on the ground in full sight and within earshot of all that went on in the room.
I soon had evidence then of the deadly business on which the men had come.
“I tell you he is not in the house.”
It was Helga’s voice, of course, and she was facing the three men with dauntless courage in voice, look, and manner.
“It is useless to say that, mademoiselle. We know he is here, and call upon you in the name of the brotherhood to give him up to us. It is more than your life is worth to refuse.”