"It stands all alone, on the left, about a hundred yards along."
"Thank you. Please wait here."
Zoe walked ahead. It was a very lonely spot. The cab had stopped before some partially-constructed houses. Beyond that lay vacant lots, on either side. In front, showed a clump of trees, and, at the back of them on a slight acclivity, a big house.
The night was fine but moonless. Save for the taxi-man and herself, it would seem that nothing moved anywhere about. She came up level with the trees. There was a kind of very small lodge among them, closely invested with ragged shrubs and overshadowed by heavier foliage.
Beyond, farther along the road, showed nothing but uninviting darkness, solitude and vacancy. This then must be the place.
Zoe peered between the bars of the gate. No light was anywhere to be seen. The house appeared to be deserted. Could the cabman have made a mistake or have been misinformed?
Zoe carried a little case, containing, amongst a number of other things, a tiny matchbox. She extracted and lighted a match. There was no breeze, or she must certainly have failed to accomplish the operation.
Shading the light with her gloved hands, she bent and examined some half-defaced white characters which adorned the top bar of the gate; by which means she made out the words:—
LAUREL COTTAGE
There had been no mistake, then. She opened the gate, and by a narrow, moss-grown path through the bushes, came to the door. All was still. It was impossible to suppose the place inhabited.