"Strange way to make a call," he muttered, peering over the end of the gallery. "Seems to have come openly, too."
The response was an indefinite sound, incapable of interpretation by any written character.
All at once Converse diverted the beam of light to the ground, immediately voicing a feeling of satisfaction, of doubt removed.
"It was a man!" he exclaimed. "Look!"
There in the turf at the end of the gallery was a clearly defined imprint of a masculine shoe heel.
"Careful there, Mac," the Captain went on, as the other started to let himself down to the ground; "go as far to the right as you can."
They moved rapidly over the lawn, one on each side of a very plain trail.
"And look here!" McCaleb presently cried. Both came to a stop. The distinct imprints of two heels lay nearly side by side, the only apparent difference between them being that one pointed toward the house and the other away from it.
"The fellow departed just as he came," was the older man's comment; "straight from the end of the gallery to the drive. Not much to be seen there, though—too hard. But let us try it."
With Converse going in advance and flashing the light from side to side, they started down the driveway. They had advanced but a short distance when the leader came to an abrupt pause.