It was dark outside. The night was clear, and the moon had not yet risen. Harry calculated that it would not become bright until very late — perhaps after midnight. It was imperative however, that they should start at once.
He produced three automatics. Each of his companions took a pistol. Harry extinguished the lamps in the cottage.
They arrived at the gates in silence. Two hours to wait. They were long hours during which the three men were impatient, although Weston passed the time rather easily by smoking his pipe, keeping his hand around the bowl to prevent the sparks from blowing. The wind sobbed eerily through the trees.
"Eleven o'clock!"
At Harry's announcement, the trio entered the gates and stole up the driveway. The moon was rising; the corner tower of the old ruin was plainly visible in the dim light. Harry led the way, keeping well in the shadow of overhanging trees.
It was pitch-black in the shelter of the old ruin. All was quiet; the wind had ceased its low moaning with the rising of the moon. The three men reached the stone steps that led to the cellar. They could see the light from the passage.
"I'll go first," whispered Harry. "Cooper next. Weston last. We must watch the rear. Keep by the steps here, major. Do not enter too far. Keep in touch with us."
They huddled in a silent group.
"Do not fire unless absolutely necessary," whispered Harry. "Capture them, if possible — Chefano and his ape-man. But we must guard against a third — in case there is another here."
He did not explain the reason to Cooper, but the Englishman grunted affirmatively in the darkness. Major Weston was familiar with the details of Bruce Duncan's experience.