Finally,
it turned off, and entered a branch thoroughfare which led from the main
track.
All this time but little had been said. Each occupant of the machine was
busied with his own thoughts, and in the lieutenant's case, at any rate,
they were not of the pleasantest.
The road into which they turned was little more than a track, with a high,
grass-grown ridge in the centre. It was a lonesome spot, and certainly
seemed retired enough to suit any plotters who might wish to transact
their business unobserved.
"Bother such sneaky bits of work," thought the young officer to himself,
as they rushed onward through the darkness. "I feel like a cheap
detective, or somebody equally low and degraded. It's unmanly, and--oh,
well! it's in the line of duty, I suppose, or hanged if I would have
anything to do with it. Mortlake showed up as more of a gentleman in the
matter than I'd have given him credit for. He seems to be genuinely cut
up over the whole nasty mess. Well he may be, too."
As described in another chapter, the sky was overcast with hurrying
clouds, which, from time to time, allowed a flood of moonlight to filter
through. By one of these temporary periods of light, Lieut. Bradbury was
able to perceive that they were in a sort of lane with high hedges on each
side.
Suddenly Mortlake ran the auto through a gap in the hedge at one side of
the road, and drove it in among a clump of alders, where there was no
danger of it being seen.
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