“I suppose they are showing him their handiwork—eh?” remarked Beryl in a whisper.
“No doubt. He has come down from London to make an inspection, it seems.”
They could hear voices speaking in German within the building, but dared not emerge from their place of concealment to peer within. Ronnie had suggested it, but Beryl urged a judicious course.
“No, let Collins remain and watch,” she said in a whisper. “Every moment we remain here means graver peril to our plans. If they scent the slightest suspicion, then all our efforts will be in vain. Have you noticed over there? I’ve been looking at it for some minutes, and I don’t think my eyes deceive me.”
“What?” asked Ronnie.
“Why, look at that chimney-stack upon the farmhouse! Can’t you see something—a wire running from it right away to that high tree on the left?”
“Yes—by Gad! That’s so, Beryl! Why, they’ve got wireless here! They evidently string up an aerial at night!”
“Well, I haven’t noticed that before!” said Collins. “But no doubt you’re right, sir. That’s a wireless aerial, without question.”
“Yes. But let’s get away,” Ronnie urged. “They may release those horrible dogs for a run, and then it would be all up.”
So the trio, creeping cautiously, receded by the dark path along which they had reached the Manor Farm, and were soon back again in the Monk’s Wood, as Collins told them it was named.