t swung slowly out, perhaps eighteen inches,
the man advancing with it and again halting to peer up and down the
street. Then quickly, as if alarmed, he withdrew, shut the gate, and
disappeared, closing the service-door behind him.

Listening intently, Lanyard heard no click of latch, such as should
have been audible in that dead hour of hush. Evidently the fellow had
neglected to make fast the gate. Possibly he had been similarly remiss
about fastening the door. But what was he up to? Why this furtive
appearance, why the retreat so abruptly executed?

By way of answer came the soft drone of a high-powered motor; then the
car itself rolled into view, a stately limousine coming from the
direction of the avenue de Friedland. Before the corner house it
stopped. A lackey alighted with an umbrella and ran to hold the door;
but Liane Delorme would not wait for him. The car had not stopped when
she threw the door open; on the instant when its wheels ceased to turn
she jumped down and ran toward the house, heedless of the rain.

At the same time one side of the great front doors swung inward, and a
footman ran out to open the gates. The lackey with the umbrella, though
he moved briskly, failed to catch up with Liane before she sped up the
steps. So he closed the umbrella and trotted back to his place beside
the chauffeur. The footman shut gates and door as the limousine moved
away: it had not been sixty seconds at rest. In fifteen more street and
house were both as they had been, save that a light now shone through
the plate glass of the latter's great doors. And that was soon
extinguished.

Conceiving that the man who had appeared at the service entrance was
the same who had admitted Liane, Lanyard told himself he understood:
impatient for his bed, the fellow had gone to the service gate to spy
out for signs of madame's return. Now if only it were true that he had
failed to close it securely----!

It proved so. The gate gave readily to Lanyard's pull. The knob of the
small door turned silently. He stepped across the threshold, and shut
himself into an unlighted hall, thoughtfully apeing the negligence of
the servant and leaving the door barely on the latch by way of
provision against a forced retreat.

So far, good. He felt for his pocket torch, then sharply fell back into
the nearest corner and made himself as inconspicuous as might be.
Footsteps were sounding on the other side of an unseen wall. He waited,
breathless,