He glanced under the long shelf of boughs which stretched toward the south and the river. The sight was a pleasing one, despite the night’s dew. Smart driveways, box-hedges, clumps of well trimmed trees and the ghostly outlines of Queen Anne cottages and villas showed that he was in one of the better parts of London.
He glided along the grass, momentarily expecting to be accosted by a constable. The hour was almost three. The chimes of Big Ben were somewhat distant. The roar of the city was far away. The smug dwellers of Richmond Hill were wrapped in slumber.
Rose Crescent proved to be a circular drive, bordered by plane trees whose trunks were encased in iron-grilled railings. Neat curb-steps bore the names of the owners. A lodge-house was passed with the gates closed and barred.
The numbers on the curb-stones or on top of the steps started running down as Fay hurried toward a cross
road and the barrier of a high hedge which enclosed some vast estate.
He stopped as he reached Number 6. The next villa would be the address mentioned by Sir Richard. Fay stepped to the curb and glanced up and down from under the shelter of an overhanging bough. No one was in sight!
Turning swiftly, he darted through the shrubbery of Number 6 and tiptoed along the driveway. The gravel crunched slightly as he worked toward the back of a stately villa. He stepped to the grass, listened a moment, then dropped to his hands and knees and crawled through an opening in a hedge. He rose, strained his eyes, and stared up at the wall before him.
A mansard roof, gables on the corners, well-curtained bays and wide porches, denoted one of the smartest of London houses. A small garage at the end of the driveway had room for two motor cars. A side house, well hidden in shrubbery, probably contained the servants. The all, in the night’s gloom, was a picture to charm most any prowler.
Fay studied the lower windows, with a professional glance. He drew himself back into the hedge as he heard a click and then the sound of somebody moving at the front of the villa.
Steeled and alert, he waited with every nerve tingling. The first sound was followed by the slight grating of feet upon a porch. A blurred and well muffled head was thrust around the edge of a white post. Sharp eyes searched the shrubbery and the hedge. Fay remained motionless. He held his breath.