There had always been that possibility, but Labar at the back of his mind had refused to recognise it as likely. There had been but the most slender margin of time in which his quarry could have safely got away. It would be the most uncanny luck if he had succeeded.

He rose to his feet, and with the looker by his side strode on to where he could get a closer view of the place. This time there was no doubt. The big wall gates were open.

Labar snapped the glasses into their case and turned to the looker. “You can get back, my lad. Tell Mr. Malone, or whoever you meet, that I think our birds have made their getaway. Anyway I’m going on to see what has happened. Get some of my men to come on the moment they are ready. Now which is my nearest way to the house?”