“New buildings—eh?” sniffed Ronnie in suspicion.
“Yes, that’s just the point, sir. But let’s get over there, and I’ll show you one or two things that I regard as suspicious.”
Thereupon the pair, guided by Collins, threw off their air-clothes and crossed the field to a gate where a footpath led into a dark wood, the air-mechanic switching on a pocket-torch to light their way. They conversed only in whispers, lest there should be anyone lurking in the vicinity, and on traversing the wood, found themselves out upon a broad highway. Then, after going perhaps a quarter of a mile, they turned into a second wood and continued through it until, at its farther boundary, they saw before them, silhouetted against the night sky, a cluster of farm-buildings, with the farmhouse itself close by.
“Hush!” urged Collins. Then, drawing his companions near him, he halted and whispered, “See that long building—away from the others? That’s where the mystery lies!”
They both strained their eyes, and could see distinctly the long, low-built structure straight before them.
“Follow me,” Collins whispered. “Be careful to make no noise. There are two dogs in the yard yonder, but they’re chained up.”
“That’s a mercy!” Beryl remarked, as the pair moved slowly after the mechanic.
Suddenly, when they came out upon an ill-made track which was evidently a byway, Collins stopped and, turning his flash-lamp upon the ground, pointed out the recent marks of wheels, the broad, flat-tyred wheels of a motor-lorry.
“See what’s been here of late—eh?” he whispered. “Look!” and he slowly flashed the light across the road. “It’s been here quite half-a-dozen times recently—on different nights or days.”
“Yes,” replied Ronnie. “You are quite right! Do those tracks lead up to the building?”