me."

The chauffeur had lost his nerve. His cheeks were pale, his teeth
were chattering. The engine, however, was still beating. Gradually the
pressure of the water grew less. In front of them they caught a glimpse
of the road. They drew up at the top of a little bridge over one of the
dikes. Gerald uttered a brief exclamation of triumph.

"We're safe!" he almost sobbed. "There's the road, straight ahead and
round to the right. There's no more water anywhere near."

They had left the main part of the flood behind them. There were still
great pools in the side of the road, and huge masses of seaweed had
been carried up and were lying in their track. There was no more water,
however. At every moment they drew nearer to the strangely-shaped hill
with its crown of trees.

"The house is on the other side," Gerald pointed out. "We can go through
the lodge gates at the back here. The ascent isn't so steep."

They turned sharply to the right, along another stretch of straight road
set with white posts, ending before a red brick lodge and a closed
gate. They blew the horn and a gardener came out. He gazed at them in
amazement.

"It's all right," Gerald cried. "Let us through quickly, Foulds. We've a
gentleman in behind who's ill."

The man swung open the gate with a respectful salute. They made their
way up a winding drive of considerable length, and at last they came
to a broad, open space almost like a platform. On their left were the
marshes, and beyond, the sea. Along their right stretched the long front
of an Elizabethan mansion. They drew up in front of the hail door. Their
coming had been observed, and servants were already waiting. Gerald
sprang to the ground.

"There's a gentleman in behind who's ill," he explained to the butler.
"He has met with an accident on the way. Three or four of you had better
carry him up to a bedroom--any one that is ready. And you, George," he
added, turning to a boy, "get into the car and show this man the way
round to the garage, and then take him to the servants' hall."

Several of the servants hastened to do his bidding, and Gerald did his
best to answer the eager but respectful stream of questions. And then,
just as they were in the act of lifting the still unconscious man on
to the floor of the hall, came a queer sound--a shrill, reverberating
whistle. They all looked up the stairs.

"The master is awake," Henderson, the butler, remarked, dropping his
voice a little.

Gera