As we climbed into the car, Jonah started the engine.
"What are the orders?" he said. "Is Miller the agent? You never said."
"Yes," said I. "We'd better go straight to Brooch."
Our way lay past the main entrance of The Lawn.
As we approached this, Jonah exclaimed and set his foot on the brake.
Leaning against the wall was a bicycle, and there was a man's figure busy about the gates. He appeared to be climbing over....
As we came up alongside, he looked at us curiously. Then he went on with his work.
A moment later he slid a pair of pliers into his pocket and, wringing the board clear of its fastenings, lowered it to the ground.
We were too late.
The Lawn was no longer for sale.