Then the truth could no longer be disguised. These men were in league against him; they had laid a trap, and he had walked into it with credulous ease. The telegram had been a fraud, sent with no other purpose than to lure him from town, into the solitude of these lonely lanes. The Brethren's knowledge of Blakeney and his ways seemed at first an incredible feat, but a moment's consideration went far to remove the mystery. Blakeney had passed through town only a week before, and had dined with Lessing at his club. Nothing more easy than to discover his name from the porter, and to follow up the scent. At that moment Lessing would have given much for the feel of a revolver in his coat pocket. Given such a weapon he might have "held up" the two men on the front seat, and forced them to obey his orders; as it was, he was powerless as a child. For another ten minutes the car pursued its headlong rush; the two men sitting silent, immovable, looking neither to right nor left; the man inside crouched forward in an attitude of defence. And once again Lessing was conscious of that tingling in his veins which was rather exhilaration than dread. Pace to face with danger he had no lack of courage, rather did every faculty of his being rouse itself to an added fullness of life. The tangible had no terror, it was the passive waiting which played havoc with his nerves. The car was still racing forward, plunging deeper and deeper into the heart of the country. Lessing studied the road on either side, searching for landmarks which might be registered for future use. He had by now concluded that he was being conveyed to some stronghold of the Brethren where he would meet the fate allotted to him for his betrayal, and he reflected that it would be days if not weeks before his disappearance would attract serious attention. By way of precaution he had burnt Blakeney's telegram as soon as read; while the boy who carried his bag to the station had departed immediately after his own arrival and could give no clue as to his destination. To-night might see the close of his own life, but his friends would pursue the even tenor of their way without a fear for his welfare. Even Delia... With the thought of Delia came a knife-like pang; a determination to strain every nerve and faculty to outwit his enemies. Another five minutes, and he became aware that the car was slacking speed, that the men on the front seat were looking ahead, as though on the watch for an expected signal. Presumably it came, for with skilful turns of the wheel the chauffeur steered the car down a narrow lane, and, with a second lurching curve, into a gateway which stood half-way down its length.