ere, now, was open warfare: and I must
look for an enemy prepared.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE SECRET OF FRIAR'S PARK

Glancing into the bar-parlor as I entered, I observed that it was
empty. Martin sat behind the counter, and he seemed to be immersed in
the contents of a newspaper which was spread open before him. Going up
to my room, I put on a pair of puttees--which, although useless and
indeed injurious for general wear, are ideal for traversing
bramble-land--took my thick stick, and further looked to the condition
and readiness of my pistol. Finally, slipping an electric torch into
my pocket, I set out.

The bar was closing when I came downstairs. Martin stared at me dully.

"I'm going for a moonlight ramble," I explained. "Will any one be up
to let me in or should you prefer to give me the key of the side
door?"

"Never locked," was the laconic reply; "come in when you like."

To a town-dweller, such a piece of information must have sounded
alarming, but knowing something of the ways of these country
communities, it did not greatly surprise me; and bidding the landlord
"good night," I set out.

The false move made by Dr. Damar Greefe had advanced the inquiry
further than any unaided endeavors of mine could well have done.
Clearly enough, the Eurasian regarded my presence as inimical to his
safety. In admitting so much he had admitted guilt of some kind. In
fact I felt assured that he was determined at all costs to prevent my
visiting Friar's Park.

Having failed in his unmistakable endeavor to remove me entirely--for
so I construed the Nubian's instructions--he would undoubtedly
recognize that the game was up. He was clearly a desperate man and I
recognized that the only hope I had of foiling him lay in acting with
despatch.

This was a perfect night with never a cloud to mar the blue serenity
of the sky, but in spite of its beauty I was more than ever conscious
of that sense of loneliness and desolateness which seemed to be the
most marked characteristic of the country hereabouts. I met never a
soul upon the highway, nor indeed did I encounter any evidence of life
whatever, until, turning into a narrow lane which would bring me to
that road in the valley upon which stood the deserted lodge belonging
to the Bell House, an owl hooted in the trees above my head.

Keenly alert to the possibility that my movements might be watched, I
paused, wondering if the sound--which had proceeded from a low bough