As he approached, he noticed two men working in a field close by, therefore he had to exercise great care not to be detected. By a circuitous route he at last approached the place, finding it, in daylight, to be a very modern up-to-date establishment--evidently the dairy farm of some estate, for the outbuildings and barns were all new, and of red brick, with corrugated iron roofs.
The farmhouse itself was a big, pleasant place situated on a hill, surrounded by a large, well-kept flower-garden, and commanding a wide view across Kent towards the Thames Estuary and the coast.
And as Ronnie crept along the belt of trees, his shrewd gaze taking in everything, there passed from the house across the farmyard a tall man in mechanic’s blue overalls. He walked a trifle lame, and by his gait Pryor felt certain that he was one of the men who had been present at that mysterious house called “Number Three” a few nights before.
But why should he wear mechanic’s overalls, unless he attended to some agricultural machinery at work on the farm?
Only half-satisfied with the result of his observations, Ronnie returned at length to his companions, when it was resolved to set watch both at Albany Road and at Chandler’s Farm. With that object Pryor later that day telegraphed to Collins calling him to London from Harbury, and after meeting him introduced him to the ex-detective.
Then that night the two men went to Albany Road, while Ronnie and Beryl returned in the car back into Kent, where soon after ten o’clock they were hiding on the edge of the little wood whence there was afforded a good view of the approach to the lonely farm.
Time passed very slowly; they dared not speak above a whisper. The night was dull and overcast, with threatening rain, but all was silent save for the howling of a dog at intervals and the striking of a distant church clock.
Far across the valley in the darkness of the sky behind the hill could be seen the flicker of an anti-aircraft searchlight somewhere in the far distance, in readiness for any aerial raid on the part of the Huns.
“I can’t think what can be in progress here, Beryl,” Ronnie was whispering. “What, I wonder, do those trunks contain?”
“That’s what we must discover, dear,” was the girl’s soft reply as, in the darkness, his strong hand closed over hers and he drew her fondly to his breast.