Carn was living in a miniature house the grounds of which backed on the larger grounds of the Manor. Templar had already noticed the house, and had wondered whom it belonged to; and for some unaccountable reason, which he could only blame on his melodramatic imagination, he felt relieved at the news that Patricia had a real live detective within call. On the walk, the Saint learned that Carn had been on the spot for three months. Carn was prepared to be loquacious up to a point: but beyond that limit he could not be lured. Carn was also prepared to talk about the Saint—a fact which pleased Simon’s egotism without hypnotising his caution. “I think it should be an interesting duel,” Carn said. “I hope so,” agreed Templar politely. “The more so because you are the second most confident crook I’ve ever met.” The Saint’s white teeth flashed. “You’re premature,” he protested. “My crime is not yet committed. Already an idea is sizzling in my brain which might easily save me the trouble of running against the law at all. I’ll write my solicitor to-morrow and let you know.” He declined Carn’s invitation to come in for a doch-an-doris, and, saying good-bye at the door, set off briskly in the general direction of the Pill Box. This expedition, however, lasted only for so long as he judged that Carn, if he were curious, would have been able to hear the departing footsteps. At that point the Saint stepped neatly off the road on to the grass at the side and retraced his steps, moving like a lean grey shadow. A short distance away he could see the gaunt lines of Sir John Bittle’s home, and it had occurred to him that his investigations might very well include that wealthy upstart. It was just after ten o’clock, but the thought that the household would still be awake never gave the Saint a moment’s pause: his was a superbly reckless bravado. The house was surrounded by a high stone wall that increased its sinister and secretive air, making it look like a converted prison. The Saint worked round the wall with the noiseless surefootedness of a Red Indian. He found only two openings. There was a back entrance which looked more like a mediæval postern gate, and which could not have been penetrated without certain essential tools that were not included in Templar’s travelling equipment. At the front there was a large double door a few yards back from the road, but this also was set into the wall, which would have formed a kind of archway at that spot if the doors had been opened.