“You’ll have to stay at the house,” was the decided answer.
“Why? What’s the reason?”
“I have talked all I’m going to about the whys and wherefores. Whatever else you learn you’ll have to get from Tibbits.”
Matt relapsed into silence, while the car continued to speed along the gloomy, tree-bordered road, following the long shafts of light like a phantom locomotive on gleaming rails.
Suddenly there was a lessening of the speed, a swerve to the right, a quick stop, and the touring car was nosing a big iron gate, hung between square brick pillars.
“Here we are,” said Sanders.
“See if the gates are locked, Sanders,” ordered Dimmock. “They shouldn’t be. Tibbits said he would leave them unfastened.”
Matt leaned forward to watch the glow from the searchlights as it played over the massive iron work, penetrated the heavy bars, and lost itself in a dense mass of trees and shrubbery beyond.
The gates were not fastened, and Sanders pushed them wide. After running the car into the yard, the driver left it standing on a graveled drive while he returned to close the gates, and lock them.
“What sort of a place is this, Dimmock?” asked Matt, peering around, but seeing little, except the heavy shadows cast by trees and bushes.