When they reached the secondary road that led to Chelfordbury he proceeded with greater caution, extinguishing the flaming headlamps and relying upon the two small lights that were placed on the front mudguard. He knew the road so well that there was no danger of mishap; his chief anxiety was that he should not, by the reflected rays of the bigger headlights, be recognized. A mile from Fossaway Manor he switched out the remaining two lights, for he had a shrewd idea that this section of the road was visible from Lord Chelford’s house. To the nervous girl riding at his side, it seemed that they were in imminent danger every minute of colliding with one of the telegraph posts which ran along the side of the road. Happily she was not aware that the smaller lamps had been extinguished. “Don’t worry,” he assured her. “I know every inch of this road; I’ve driven up it a hundred times. My cottage lies just beyond Willow House.” The car, which had been moving silently and smoothly, began to slow as it went up the hill that led to Fontwell Cutting. He switched off the engine, and, jamming on the brakes, got out and opened the gate into Red Farm field. Then, walking alongside the car, he released the brakes and guided it to the place where Dick had found the machine a few nights before. “Here we are,” he said. He took her arm; she was shivering, and when she spoke he heard the chatter of her teeth. “I wish I hadn’t come,” she said, started, and pointed into the dark. “What is that over there?” she whispered fearfully. “A pollard willow,” he said. “Really, there’s nothing to be afraid of--Mary.” “I don’t know about that,” she quavered. “Don’t let go of my arm, will you? Have you got a pistol?” He assured her that he had. Through the little gate, which he knew was unlocked, up the steep and slippery slope, and immediately ahead of them in the darkness were the solemn ruins. “I’d rather not show a light,” he said in a low voice. “That was how Gwyn was discovered. Do you know your way?” “If I can see the tower,” she suggested. Stooping down to get an artificial skyline, he saw the bulk of the ruined tower and guided her forward. Once she stumbled over a heap of stones and would have screamed if his hand had not covered her mouth. “For God’s sake, be careful!” he urged. “Now, how do we get to the vault?” “Wait.” She released his arm and went toward the wall of the tower. He saw her once more, when she was groping her way round. Presently she whispered: “Come along.” He followed her and reaching out her hand she took his. “There’s a step down,” she whispered. They were going into the tower, although he did not remember having seen any opening. He heard a rusty squeak.… “It’s very narrow; you’ll have to squeeze through.” The opening, he judged, was about a foot wide, and he had some trouble to pass the obstacle.