It was as he was passing one of these that a whisper came from the darkness:
"Mr. Farland!"
The detective whirled toward the sound, one hand diving into a coat pocket and clutching his automatic.
"Well?"
"Be as silent as possible. Do not flash your torch yet; you may do so presently, so you can see who is talking. I am the man who called you up by telephone."
"Come out where I can get a glimpse of you," Farland commanded, ready for trouble.
He could see a shadow detach itself from the patch of gloom in front of him and approach.
"That is close enough for the present!" Farland said. "I'm not taking chances on you until I know who's talking to me."
"I don't blame you, Mr. Farland, under the circumstances. If you are sure there is nobody approaching, I'll come out into the light so you can see my face."
Farland glanced up and down the walk quickly. As he did so, he heard a step behind him. He whirled, the automatic came from his pocket ready for use—and a man crashed into him.