In half an hour the red car had left the city and was speeding along a
smooth country road in the moonlight.
Ted still lay in a stupor in the bottom of the car, and the only sound
that came from him was an occasional gasp as his lungs, trying to
recover from a shock, took in short gulps of air.
It was midnight before the red car slowed down.
Ahead in the moonlight rose the black bulk of a building.
It presented the appearance of a country house of some pretensions.
The house was dark. Not a light appeared at any of the windows.
The red car approached it cautiously, running into the deep shadow cast
by a high brick wall. A dog on the other side of the wall barked a
warning.
The man in the red car whistled softly in a peculiar way.
A window was raised somewhere, and the whistle was answered by another.
In a few minutes there was the sound of a man walking on a graveled
path, then the creak of rusty iron and a gate swung open.
"All right?" asked a voice at the gate.
"You bet. Got them both," answered the man in the red machine.
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