With these explicit directions Peter set off down the flat and lonely road. The day had been hot and breathless, but now, in the early evening, a cooling breeze was springing up, rippling the fields of standing grain and rustling in the trees along the dusty road. Peter bared his head to the refreshing air, and strode forward with swift and determined steps. He passed few houses along the way, and fewer people. One of these, a bright-looking boy, in torn overalls, he stopped and asked if he was on the right road to the Mayhew place. The answer was a nod and a pointing finger, and the boy passed on, kicking up the soft dust with his bare feet. Just after this Peter crossed a wooden bridge over a thread of water running between wide, eroded banks, and came to a small, dark wood. The wood passed, he came suddenly upon a long stretch of high stone wall, incongruous in such a setting, and behind the wall, at some little distance, he could see the top of an old stone house which appeared more incongruous still, for it was on the lines of an old English castle, with high, crenelated walls. On the top of the roof, most incongruous of all, was a modern super-structure, largely of glass, and, as Peter looked, a strange, brilliant light of a queer bluish purple flared out through the windows--died down--flared once again--and was gone. Peter muttered something to himself, and went on along the wall, stopping quietly on the closely trimmed grass which lay between it and the road. Soon he came to a closed gate, a high gate of heavy wrought-iron work. He paused here only long enough to look down a well-kept driveway shaded with dark trees and thickly planted with shrubbery. There was not a soul in sight. Then he continued on about five hundred feet to the visible end of the wall. He had hoped that the wall had simply been built to ensure privacy from the road, as is the case in so many American homes, but he found, to his disappointment, that the wall continued at right angles, probably enclosing the entire estate. Peter was rather at a loss how to proceed. He had wished, if possible, to make sure of one point before coming out into the open, and the height of the wall bade fair to defeat even the possibility of accomplishing his purpose. He stood for a moment at the corner thinking how best to proceed. As he glanced about him, he noticed a rough though well-worn path leading away from the road and, following the turn of the wall, through a wood of tall trees and thick underbrush. "I'll take a chance," thought Peter, and quietly entered the path. He had walked far enough to be certain, though he could not see it, that he had passed the house, when suddenly he came to a stop. On the other side of the wall he could hear voices. Two women's voices he made them out to be, though he could not hear the words. It was the first sign of life he had found around the odd, lonely place.