ed.

"Looks like a watcher," he said, "and if it is your friend's place the
gate will be locked and barred. Why don't you get a warrant?"

Beale shook his head.

"He'd get wind of it and be gone. No, our way in is over the wall. The
'hobo' said there's a garden door somewhere."

They left the car and walked down the hill and presently came to a
corner of the high wall which surrounded Deans Folly.

Beale passed on ahead.

"Here's the door," he said.

He tried it gingerly and it gave a little.

"It's clogged, and you won't get it open," said Homo; "it's the wall or
nothing."

Beale looked up and down the road. There was nobody in sight and he made
a leap, caught the top of the wall and drew himself up. Luckily the
usual _chevaux de frise_ was absent. Beneath him and a little to the
right was a shed built against the wall, the door of which was closed.

He signalled Homo to follow and dropped to the ground. In a minute both
men were sheltering in the clump of bushes where on the previous day
Oliva had waited before making a dart for the garden door.

"There's been a fire here," said Homo in a low voice, and pointed to a
big ugly patch of black amidst the green.

Beale surveyed it carefully, then wormed his way through the bushes
until he was within reach of the ruined plot. He stretched out his hand
and pulled in a handful of the debris, examined it carefully and stuffed
it into his pocket.

"You are greatly interested in a grass fire," said Homo curiously.

"Yes, aren't I?" replied Beale.

They spent the next hour reconnoitring the ground. Once the door of the
wall-shed opened, two men came out and walked to the house, and they had
to lie motionless until after a seemingly interminable interval they
returned again, stopping in the middle of the black patch to talk.
Beale saw one pointing to the ruin and the other shook his head and they
both returned to the shed and the door closed behind them.

"There's somebody coming down the main drive," whispered Homo.

They were now near the house and from where they lay had a clear view of
fifty yards of the drive.

"It's a brother brush!" said Homo, in a chuckling whisper.

"A what?" asked Beale.

"A parson."

"A parson?"

He focused his glasses. Some one in clerical attire accompanied by the
man whom Beale recognized as the guard of the gate, was walking quickly
down the drive. There was no time to be lost. But now for the first time
doubts assailed