"Just as you like," I a.s.sented. "Anyway it will be a pleasant stroll."

Supplying ourselves with the primal necessities of stout sticks and brierwood pipes we set out. Gyp, an Irish terrier, looked longingly upon us, and Warriner, after a momentary hesitation, told him that he might accompany the expedition; whereupon there followed much staccato yelping and the apparent vision of one small dog in several places at once.

The side of the hill facing the "Hundred" was rather too steep for comfortable climbing; moreover, there seemed to be a wagon road, on the right hand slope, which promised a practicable means of ascent. We walked across the lawn and a horse paddock to the Whippany, following the bank of the stream to where it was crossed by a picturesque stone bridge. Straight on lay the road to Lynn C. H., while our woodland way branched off to the left.

It was pleasantly cool in the woods, and inside of twenty minutes we were well up on the hillside, and the library wing of the "Hundred" was in plain view. But there was still no sign of "Warriner's Shelf," as I chose to dub it, and I began to chaff him gently. However Gyp, by way of repaying the favor of being allowed to join us, pushed an inquisitive nose into a ma.s.s of tangled wild grapevines. Here was plain token of human progress, and we followed the narrow trail that presently dipped down sharply and then around the shoulder of a big, square rock.

"Warriner's Shelf" at last, a natural bench in the escarpment, not larger than ten feet by six, with a comparatively level floor, and partially sheltered by the overhanging rock wall. The bushes and foliage in general had been cut away in front, leaving an irregular opening about the height of a man and four or five feet in width. "I should never have picked it out in the world," said Warriner, "but for that glint of white." And as he spoke, he detached from a hazel twig a square of cambric, a man's handkerchief. I followed the direction of his glance, and read the initials in one corner--"J. T."

"What do you make of it?" I asked, feeling more than a little puzzled.

"A signal, of course. A sharp eye could pick it out from the terrace, particularly if a hand was waving it."

"Anyhow it is proof that John Thaneford knows of this eyrie and is accustomed to visit it," I added.

"Perfectly. Do you realize, by the way, that we are now on Thaneford property?"

"How so?"

"The dividing line runs a few yards away, and you will find a monument near the base of that white pine. I came up here once with old Richard Hildebrand, and he pointed it out to me. This side of Sugar Loaf belongs to 'Thane Court.'"

"Then we are trespa.s.sers."

"In the technical sense I suppose we are."

"And John Thaneford doesn't welcome visitors," I remarked, recalling the incidents of our first meeting.

"Well, we're only looking around; no harm done."

Warriner reloaded his pipe leisurely. "What do you suppose is the meaning of that contraption?" he continued, indicating a singular framework of iron, painted green, that stood in the opening and pointed directly toward the house; we both examined it with keen attention.

It consisted of a narrow trough of metal--probably the half section of a four-inch pipe--and was some three feet in length. It was supported by tripods at either end, firmly fixed in the ground. The whole arrangement was solidly put together, and seemed intended as a rest for some sort of instrument. Warriner seated himself on a flat stone, and sighted along the trough. Then he supplemented his observations with the binoculars.

"It appears to line exactly with the pridella opening of the 'Korah'

window," he said at length. "Adjust a high-powered rifle in the trough, and it ought to be possible to send a bullet directly into the library at the 'Hundred'; yes, and it would strike pretty close to anyone who happened to be occupying the swivel-chair at the big teakwood desk. Of course, without instruments, I can't speak definitely about the trajectory, but we must be a couple of hundred feet above the house which should compensate for the natural drop in the arc."

"The fatal objection to that theory," I retorted, "is the non-existent bullet. There can't be the slightest ground for thinking that Francis Graeme came to his death through the agency of a gunshot wound."

"No, there isn't," admitted Warriner. "All the same, it opens up some interesting possibilities."

"For example?" A third person was suddenly taking part in the conversation.

I turned quickly to see John Thaneford standing besides us. He was accompanied by a big collie, an ill-tempered brute, who eyed Gyp with disdainful truculence. The like adjectival description might have been applied to Thaneford himself as he stood there with his white teeth just showing through the close drawn lips, and one muscular fist, with its tufted knuckles, knotted about a blackthorn cudgel.

"You were speaking, I think, of interesting possibilities," he continued, looking at each of us in turn, "Perhaps I could add something of value to the discussion."

"You have already contributed Exhibit A," said Warriner, handing him the handkerchief. As he spoke, he rose to his feet, and it seemed to me that just before doing so he picked up a small object from the ground, and kept it concealed in the hollow of his hand. But the action had been so swift that I could not be sure.

John Thaneford took and pocketed his handkerchief with the utmost sangfroid. "Thanks," he said carelessly. "I must have left it here by inadvertence, and nowadays even a few inches of real Irish linen is a possession not to be despised. It is certainly mine, and, moreover, it was found on Thaneford property. Under the circ.u.mstances you will hardly be justified in putting in a claim for treasure-trove." This with a sneer that fully bared his close set teeth.

I was feeling rather uncomfortable, but Warriner's cool urbanity never failed him. "Glad to have obliged you," he said easily. "The next strong wind probably would have blown it down the cliff. Lovely view, isn't it?"

And indeed it was a charming prospect--the silver ripples of the shallow Whippany edging the emerald meadows that stretched up to meet the shaven lawn of the "Hundred"; the ma.s.sive ochre bulk of the house, with its roofs of dark gray slate; and, beyond, the copper glow from a clump of purple beeches melting insensibly into the sombre hues of pine and hemlock; in the middle distance, the golden ocean of the wheat; and still farther on, a battery of motor tractors moving snail-like but inexorably against the gallant green lances of the haying fields--"Hildebrand Hundred" in all its glory.

"A _belvedere_ in quite the proper sense," commented Warriner. "I dare say you are rather fond of coming here--by way of viewing the promised land, as it were." He smiled provokingly.

John Thaneford was not nimble witted, and he found no fitting rejoinder to Warriner's sarcasm. "I don't know that it is any of your d.a.m.ned business," he barked out, flushing redly.

It was time for me to intervene, for clearly our position was not a tenable one; we were trespa.s.sers. "I am sorry to have intruded for the second time within a week," I said evenly. "Unintentional of course."

He made no definite reply, and I swung round. "Get to heel, Gyp," I ordered.

"One moment," demanded Thaneford, "I've been intending to tell you that I shall go back to 'Thane Court' this evening; I mean for good. I'm afraid that my father"--he gulped at something in his throat--"can't be moved for the present."

"Mr. Thaneford will be welcome to the hospitality of the 'Hundred' so long as the emergency exists," I returned smilingly. "I would say as much for yourself, but of course you will do as you please."

"I always intend to," he countered instantly. Then, as though a bit ashamed of his boorishness, he added: "You will have no objection, I suppose, to my coming over to the 'Hundred' to see him?"

"Surely not. And there is also the telephone. I promise that you will be kept fully informed. Good day, Mr. Thaneford."

"Mr. Thaneford!" he echoed. "My dear Cousin Hugh, are you oblivious of the fact that this is the South, and that we are kin?"

"Even if a little less than kind," put in Warriner.

"Cousin John, then," I amended, determined to give no open ground for offence. "Shall I have your traps sent over to the 'Court?'"

"Thanks, but I'm looking in on father around five o'clock, and so won't have to bother you. Down, Vixen!" he added, dealing the collie a hearty cuff as she snapped at Gyp, discreetly paddling at my heels. Warriner started to say something civil, but was ignored, and we pa.s.sed on without another word.

"Sulky brute!" offered Warriner, but I merely nodded.

"Did you notice that no allusion was made, on either side, to that singular metal rest?" he persisted.

"What was there to say?"

"True for you; but I still contend that the possibilities are interesting--perhaps infinitely so. For instance----" he opened his hand and showed me what lay snugly ensconced within.

"Looks like a piece of gla.s.s."

"Man, don't you know a telescopic lens when you see it!"

Warriner produced a silk handkerchief, and with it carefully cleaned and polished what I now fully recognized as a bit of some optical apparatus.

He held it up to his eye, and squinted through it. "Do you know there is something peculiar about this blooming lens," he said at length. "I think I'll drive over to Calverton after luncheon, and make a laboratory test. Who knows...."

"What?"

"Tell you later--if there is anything to tell." And not another word on the subject could I get out of him.