They walked out into the hall together, and there Jack found them. Beardmore’s car carried the visitor and his bag back to the station, and from there on Mr. Marl’s conduct was peculiar. He registered his bag through to the city, but he himself descended at the next station, and for a man who so disliked walking, and was by nature so averse from physical exercise, he displayed an almost heroic spirit, for he set forth to walk the nine miles which separated him from the Beardmore estate--and he did not go by the shortest route. It was nearing nightfall when Mr. Marl made his furtive way into a thick plantation on the edge of the Beardmore property. He sat down, a tired, dusty but determined man, and waited for the night to close down over the countryside. And during the period of waiting, he examined with tender care the heavy automatic pistol he had taken from his bag in the train. Chapter V. The Girl Who Ran “I can’t understand why that fellow hasn’t come back this morning,” said Jim Beardmore with a frown. “Which fellow?” asked Jack carelessly. “I’m speaking of Marl,” said his father. “Was that the large-sized gentleman I saw yesterday?” asked Derrick Yale. They were standing on the terrace of the house, which, from its elevated position, gave them a view across the country. The morning train had come and gone. They could see the trail of white smoke it left as it disappeared into the foothills nine miles away. “Yes. I’d better ’phone Froyant, and tell him not to come over.” Jim Beardmore stroked his stubbly chin. “Marl puzzles me,” he said. “He is a brilliant fellow I believe, a reformed thief I know--at least I hope he is reformed. What upset him yesterday, Jack? He came into the library looking like death.” “I haven’t the slightest idea,” said Jack. “I think he has a weak heart, or something of the sort. He told me he gets these spasms occasionally.” Beardmore laughed softly, and going into the house returned with a walking-stick. “I’m going for a stroll, Jack. No, you needn’t come along. I’ve one or two things I wish to think out, and I promise you, Yale, I won’t leave the grounds, though I think you attach too much importance to the threats of these ruffians.” Yale shook his head. “What of the sign on the tree?” he asked. Jim Beardmore snorted contemptuously. “It will take more than that to extract a hundred thousand from me,” he said. He waved a farewell at them as he went down the broad stone steps, and they watched him walking slowly across the park. “Do you really think my father is in any kind of danger?” asked Jack. Yale, who had been staring after the figure, turned with a start. “In danger?” he repeated, and then after a second’s hesitation. “Yes, I believe there is very serious danger for him in the next day or two.” Jack turned his troubled gaze upon the disappearing figure. “I hope you’re wrong,” he said. “Father doesn’t seem to take the matter as seriously as you.”