“Not here,” I said. “The assassins will not return, never fear. They know of their failure in my case, and by this time they are, in all probability, out of the country.”
“But surely we ought to examine this spot and ascertain whether the remains of any one is concealed here!” exclaimed my old friend.
Yet I still hesitated, hesitated because I feared that any exposure must implicate that sweet little girl who, though my friend, had so ingeniously escaped me.
At the same moment, however, our ears both caught a slight movement among the tangled shrubs under the wall at the extreme end of the garden. Instantly we shut off our lamps, and stood motionless, listening.
At first I believed it to be only the scrambling of a cat. But next second Jack nudged my arm, and straining my eyes I saw a dark figure moving stealthily along, half crouching so as to be less conspicuous, but moving slowly towards that side of the house which was the only exit.
Fearing discovery there, our examination being so thorough, the intruder was slowly creeping off, endeavouring to escape observation.
For an instant I remained motionless, watching the dark, crouching figure. Then, drawing my revolver, I made a dash straight in its direction.