The carriage pulled up with a jerk and he leaped down into the road. He did not speak to me, so, after a second's hesitation, I followed him and stood by his side. There was no mistaking the sound which had alarmed him. Behind, at no very great distance, was the sound of galloping horses and the rumble of smoothly-turning wheels. Round the corner it came, a small brougham drawn by a pair of great thoroughbred horses, whose heavy gallop, even at fifty yards' distance, seemed to shake the ground beneath us. M. de Cartienne snatched one of the carriage-lamps from the bracket and, stepping into the middle of the road, waved it backwards and forwards over his head. His action had the desired effect. Quivering and plunging with fear, the horses, bathed in foam and mud, came to a standstill before us, and a tall, fair man, with a long fur coat thrown hurriedly over his evening-clothes, leaped out into the road. The Count was by his side in a moment. I remained a little apart, of course, out of earshot, but with my eyes fixed upon the two men. They could scarcely have spoken a hundred words before their colloquy was at an end. The new-comer returned to his carriage and M. de Cartienne followed his example. I looked at him as he stepped in, anxious to see what effect the other's news had had upon him. Apparently it was not so bad as he had feared, for, although he still looked anxious and pale, his face had lost its ghastly hue. We drove on in the same direction as before. When we had started he turned to me. "Do you know what a police raid is?" he asked. I shook my head. "Well, I can't stop to explain," he went on rapidly. "Sir Fred--my friend there, has just brought down word of some strange rumours about the clubs to-night. It seems the police have got to hear of this place and are going to pay it an uninvited visit. They won't be here for an hour, though, so if you like just to come inside and see whether Marx is there or not, you will have time." We had turned off the road into a bare, grass-grown avenue, leading up to a red-brick house, unilluminated by a single light. We were barely a minute driving up this uninviting approach and pulling up at the grim, closed door. The carriage had scarcely come to a standstill before the Count was on the doorstep, fitting a curiously-shaped key into the lock. It yielded at once and we both stepped inside, followed by the man in the fur overcoat, whose carriage had pulled up close behind ours. We were in perfect darkness and no one seemed to be stirring in the house, although the mat under our feet, in some way connected with an electric alarm bell, was giving shrill notice of our arrival. Then we heard swift feet approaching and a tall, hard-featured woman in a plain black gown, and holding a lamp high over her head, appeared before us.