That, if the man's directions were right, was "Uplands"--if his
directions were wrong--then...

A shrill whistle--minor, eerie, in rising cadence--sounded on the
dead silence with piercing clearness! Six whistles--seemingly
from all around me--replied!

Some object came humming through the air, and I ducked wildly.

On and on I ran--flying from an unknown, but, as a warning instinct
told me, deadly peril--ran as a man runs pursued by devils.

The road bent sharply to the left then forked. Overhanging trees
concealed the house, and the light, though high up under the eaves,
was no longer visible. Trusting to Providence to guide me, I plunged
down the lane that turned to the left, and, almost exhausted, saw the
gates before me--saw the sweep of the drive, and the moonlight,
gleaming on the windows!

None of the windows were illuminated.

Straight up to the iron gates I raced.

They were locked!

Without a moment's hesitation I hurled my grip over the top and
clambered up the bars! As I got astride, from the blackness of the
lane came the ominous hum, and my hat went spinning away across the
lawn!--the black cloud veiled the moon and complete darkness fell.

Then I dropped and ran for the house--shouting, though all but
winded--"Hilton! Hilton! Open the door!"

Sinking exhausted on the steps, I looked toward the gates--but they
showed only dimly in the dense shadows of the trees.

Bzzz! Buzz!

I dropped flat in the portico as something struck the metal knob of
the door and rebounded over me. A shower of gravel told of another
misdirected projectile.

Crack! Crack! Crack! The revolver spoke its short reply into the
mysterious darkness; but the night gave up no sound to tell of a
shot gone home.

"Hilton! Hilton!" I cried, banging on the panels with the butt of
the weapon. "Open the door! Open the door!"

And now I heard the coming footsteps along the hall within; heavy
bolts were withdrawn--the door swung open--and Hilton, pale-faced,
appeared. His hand shot out, grabbed my coat collar; and weak,
exhausted, I found myself snatched into safety, and the door
rebolted.

"Thank God!" I whispered. "Thank God! Hilton, look to all your
bolts and fastenings. Hell is outside!"

CHAPTER XXXIII

HOW WE WERE REINFORCED

Hilton, I learned, was living the simple life at "Uplands." The
place was not yet decorated and was only partly furnished. But
with his man, Soar, he had been in s