Monsieur Dupont blocked the way.
"No, no—it would be a waste of time. I have come from there."
"To the river, then," the manager cried, bearing him round. "He may be trying to get across."
He was evidently familiar with the intricacies of the garden. In a few minutes, after a dozen turnings, they reached the gleam of water.
"Keep your eyes open for the next flash," the manager directed.
He peered about. A moment later the lightning lit up the calm stretch of the river and the broad lawns sloping down to it. Monsieur Dupont detected no form or movement—but with a startling shout, the manager bounded away from him across the lawns.
Monsieur Dupont blinked after him in astonishment.
He was alone again—in a new and even darker part of the endless garden.