Straight down the slope toward the barn ran the fifth man of Quintana's gang, and disappeared among the out-buildings.
Smith crept after him through the sumacs; and, at the foot of the slope, squatted low in a clump of rag-weed.
So close to the house was he now that he could hear the dew rattling on the veranda roof. He saw shadowy figures appear, one after another, and take stations at the four corners of the house. The fifth man was somewhere near the out-buildings, very silent about whatever he had on hand.
The stillness was absolute save for the drumming dew and a faint ripple from the water's edge.
Smith crouched, listened, searched the starlight with intent eyes, and waited.
Until something happened he could not solve the problem before him. He could be of no use to Eve Strayer and to Stormont until he found out what Quintana was going to do.
He could be of little use anyway unless he got into the house, where two rifles might hold out against five.
There was no use in trying to get to Ghost Lake for assistance. He felt that whatever was about to happen would come with a rush. It would be all over before he had gone five minutes. No; the only thing to do was to stay where he was.
As for his pledge to the little Grand Duchess, that was always in his mind. Sooner or later, he was going to make good his pledge.
He knew Quintana and his gang were here to find the Flaming Jewel.