Mellersh followed as his companion walked to the gate.
“Is there a servant of Mrs Pontardent’s here?”
“Yes, sir,” said a man holding a lantern, “I am.”
“Is there any other entrance to these grounds?”
“No, sir,” said the man sharply, and Linnell’s heart beat with joy. “Leastwise, sir, only the garden gate.”
“Garden gate?”
“Yes, sir; at the bottom of the broad walk.”
“Here—which way?”
“Right up through the grounds, sir; or along outside here, till you come to the lane that goes round by the back. But it’s always kept locked.”
“Stop here, Mellersh, while I go round and see,” whispered Linnell. “If I shout, come to me.”