Presently there comes a sound, slight but distinct; the crackling of a twig beneath a man's boot, and almost at the same instant the last light disappears from the windows of the "Hill House."
One, two, three. Three dark forms approach, one after the other, each pauses for an instant beside the light buggy, and seems to look up to the dull red spark, which is all of Arch Brookhouse that is clearly visible through the dark. Then they enter the gate and are swallowed up in the blackness of the avenue.
And now, a fourth form moves stealthily down the avenue after the others. It does not come from without the grounds, it starts out from the shrubbery within, and it is unseen by Arch Brookhouse.
How still the night is! The man who follows after the three first comers can almost hear his pulses throb, or so he fancies.
Presently the three men pause before the door of the barn, and one of them takes from his pocket a key, with which he unlocks the door, and they enter.
As soon as they are inside, a lantern is lighted, and the three men move together toward the rear of the barn, the part against which is piled a monstrous stack of hay.
Meanwhile the watcher outside glides close to the wall of the building, listening here and there, as he, too, approaches the huge hay pile.
And now he does a queer thing. He begins to pull away handfuls of hay from the bottom of the stack, where it is piled against the barn. He works noiselessly, and very soon has made an opening, into which he crawls. Evidently this mine has been worked before, for there is a long tunnel through the hay, penetrating to the middle of the stack. Here the watcher peeps through two small holes, newly drilled in the thick boards of the barn. And then a smile of triumph rests upon his face.