It was just outside of Bray Park–he remembered it now. A tiny box of a place it was, too, but solidly built of stone. It might have been used as a tool house. There was one window; that and the door were the only means of egress. The German looked hard at the window and laughed. Dick saw then that it was barred. To get out that way, even if he had the chance, would be impossible. And the guard evidently decided that. He lay down across the door. "So!" he said. "I shall sleep–but with one ear open! You cannot get out except across me. And I am a light sleeper!" Dick sat there, pondering wretchedly. The man who had been struck on the head was breathing stertorously. His companion soon dropped off to sleep, like the German, so that Dick was the only one awake. Through the window, presently, came the herald of the dawn, the slowly advancing light. And suddenly Dick saw a shadow against the light, looked up intently, and saw that it was Jack Young. Jack pointed. Dick, not quite understanding, moved to the spot at which he pointed. "Stay there!" said Jack, soundlessly. His lips formed the words but he did not utter them. He nodded up and down vehemently, however, and Dick understood him, and that he was to stay where he was. He nodded in return, and settled down in his new position. And then Jack dropped out of sight. For a long time, while the dawn waxed and the light through the window grew stronger, Dick sat there wondering. Only the breathing of the three men disturbed the quiet of the little hut. But then, from behind him, he grew conscious of a faint noise. Not quite a noise, either; it was more a vibration. He felt the earthen floor of the hut trembling beneath him. And then at last he understood. He had nearly an hour still to wait. But at last the earth cracked and yawned where he had been sitting. He heard a faint whisper. "Dig it out a little–there’s a big hole underneath. You can squirm your way through. I’m going to back out now." Dick obeyed, and a moment later he was working his way down, head first, through the tunnel Jack had dug from the outside. He was small and slight and he got through, somehow, though he was short of breath and dirtier than he had ever been in his life when at last he was able to straighten up–free. "Come on!" cried Jack. "We’ve no time to lose. I’ve got a couple of bicycles here. We’d better run for it." Run for it they did, but there was no alarm. Behind them was the hut, quiet and peaceful. And beyond the hut was the menace of Bray Park and the mysteries of which the Germans had spoken in the great grey motor car. CHAPTER VIII–A DARING RUSE