Once
in the driver's seat and with the engine going, he had no fear of
capture. A whizzing rush to the highroad and down it to the point
where his confederate waited with the new number-plates; and he
could snap his fat fingers at pursuit.
Dugan had called at the Place, a week earlier. He had taken
interested note of the little garage's two cars and of the
unlocked garage doors. He had taken less approving note of the
three guardian collies: Lad, still magnificent and formidable, in
spite of his weight of years;--Bruce, gloriously beautiful and
stately and aloof;--young Wolf, with the fire and fierce agility
of a tiger-cat. All three had watched him, grimly. None had
offered the slightest move to make friends with the smooth-spoken
visitor. Dogs have a queerly occult sixth sense, sometimes, in
regard to those who mean ill to their masters.
This morning, idling along the highroad, a furlong from the
Place's stone gateway, Dugan had seen the Mistress and the Master
drive past in the smaller of the two cars. He had seen Lad with
them. A little later, he had seen the men cross the road toward
the upper field.
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