“Open the gates,” Haverly demanded. “I must see your master at once. I’m Haverly.”
“You might be, but then again you mightn’t,” was the dubious reply. “Anyway, I’ve got strict orders to keep a sharp look-out for anybody suspicious-looking.”
“You darned fool!” cried the Yankee, “do you size me up as a suspicious party?”
“Orders is orders,” retorted the man sullenly, without budging an inch.
“Say, Frank,” Haverly said, “give us a leg up, will you? This fool means to keep us out here all night.”
With the aid of his friend, Silas swarmed over the barrier, and dropped lightly down on the other side. Quickly he flung open the gates, and the next moment the car was spinning up the drive, leaving the lodge-keeper staring blankly after it.
“It’s agin orders,” he muttered at length, and, shaking his head sagely, he closed the gates, and withdrew to his room.
Up the broad, gravelled track Oswyn drove the automobile, at a speed that made the shrubs which bordered the drive dance past in one dark line.
Soon the lights of the Manor gleamed before them, and from afar the sound of the sea came to their ears.
Bringing the car to a standstill before the porch, the doctor sprang out, followed by his friend.