There was nobody in sight. He ran swiftly along the grass-plot, slowing his pace as he came to the end of the wall, and then jerked round, gun extended stiffly. Still nobody. Before him was a close-growing box hedge, in which had been cut an opening. He heard the crack of a signal behind him, guessed that it was Meadows, and presently the detective joined him. Leon put his fingers to his lips, leapt the path to the grass on the other side, and dodged behind a tree until he could see straight through the opening in the box hedge. Beyond was a rose-garden, a mass of pink and red and golden blooms. Leon put his hand in his pocket and took out a black cylinder, fitting it, without taking his eyes from the hedge opening, to the muzzle of his pistol. Meadows heard the dull thud of the explosion before he saw the pistol go up. There was a scatter of leaves and twigs and the sound of hurrying feet. Leon dashed through the opening in time to see a man plunge into a plantation. “_Plop!_” The bullet struck a tree not a foot from the fugitive. “That’s that!” said Leon, and took off his silencer. “I hope none of the servants heard it, and most of all that Lee, whose hearing is unfortunately most acute, mistook the shot for something else.” He went back to the window, stopping to pick up such of his crackers as had not exploded. “They are useful things to put on the floor of your room when you’re expecting to have your throat cut in the middle of the night,” he said pleasantly. “They cost exactly two dollars a hundred, and they’ve saved my life more often than I can count. Have you ever waited in the dark to have your throat cut?” he asked. “It happened to me three times, and I will admit that it is not an experience that I am anxious to repeat. Once in Bohemia, in the city of Prague; once in New Orleans, and once in Ortona.” “What happened to the assassins?” asked Meadows with a shiver. “That is a question for the theologian, if you will forgive the well-worn jest,” said Leon. “I think they are in hell, but then I’m prejudiced.” Mr. Lee had left the dining-table and was standing at the front door, leaning on his stick; and with him an interested Mr. Washington. “What was the trouble?” asked the old man in a worried voice. “It is a great handicap not being able to see things. But I thought I heard a shot fired.” “Two,” said Leon promptly. “I hoped you hadn’t heard them. I don’t know who the man was, Mr. Lee, but he certainly had no right in the grounds, and I scared him off.” “You must have used a silencer: I did not hear the shots fully. Did you catch a view of the man’s face?” “No, I saw his back,” he said. Leon thought it was unnecessary to add that a man’s back was as familiar to him as his face. For when he studied his enemies, his study was a very thorough and complete one. Moreover, Gurther ran with a peculiar swing of his shoulder. He turned suddenly to the master of Rath Hall.