“I guess we’re in time,” Haverly said. “You’ll see this through, Frank?”
“Rather!” replied the young doctor enthusiastically. “We’d better take a look round before we make an entrance.”
Leaving the car where it stood, the two men crept round to the rear of the building.
The light, streaming through the open French windows of the dining-room, attracted their attention, and Oswyn with difficulty stifled an exclamation of rage as, crossing the lawn, they peered in.
Within sat Seymour, the inventor, and Mervyn, before a table which still held the remnants of a meal; but each was bound securely to his chair and gagged.
In one corner of the room stood Haverly’s two companions of the express, and with them two others, one in the dress of a footman. They were conversing in low tones, and at intervals a gleam of metal beneath the electric light showed that all were armed.
“Well, gentlemen,” one of them said at length, addressing the helpless trio, “I think we may venture to leave you. You will be perfectly safe for the night, but I am afraid your proposed Polar expedition will have to be indefinitely postponed.”
The scoundrel’s words floated distinctly to the ears of the watchers, and Oswyn was seized with a mad desire to rush in upon the plotters. Haverly restrained him, however.
“Got a gun?” he questioned hoarsely.
“No,” was the reply, “worse luck.”