The situation intrigued him. Some person was paying a visit from Blair Windsor’s house. Perhaps it was of no significance; it might only be a messenger coming on a simple errand.
Yet, there was but that one light in the little farmhouse. That, in itself, was sufficient reason for investigation.
Harry approached the house. He found a low shed at the back. He climbed it, and managed to stretch far enough to see in the corner of the window, which was open, with a blind half drawn.
A screen netting made vision imperfect; nevertheless, Harry could see two men at a table upon which rested an oil lamp.
One was an elderly man — smooth-shaven, with gray hair. Harry could not clearly distinguish his features. The other was more plainly in view. He was young, dark-complexioned, and of slightly more than average height.
The old man might be a farmer, although that was difficult to judge. The young chap might be one of Blair Windsor’s guests.
The combination was unexplainable. What did this meeting mean?
Harry listened.
“When’s Jerry coming back?” the young man asked.
“Very soon,” was the reply. “We’ll have a late dinner.”