Just within his range of vision a carriage, drawn by two dripping, sorry-looking nags, drew up under the slight shelter of an elm-tree about fifty yards away from the house.

From it emerged eight fellows in rain-coats, while the tall, long-nosed watcher whom Neil had seen at the corner joined them and made his report.

The group looked toward Livingston's window and Neil dodged back.
"It's too late now," he whispered.

"There they are." "Look a bit damp, don't they," laughed Livingston softly as he peered out over the other's shoulder.

"I'll go down and lock the door." "No, stay here," said Neil.