As the two boys got outside, they saw a man with his head bent low, darting across the greensward surrounding the construction shed.
But the fellow kept on without turning his head. He was evidently making for a lane which ran at the rear of Mr. Peregrine’s grounds. But a high fence separated him from it, a fence which surrounded the estate on all four sides, for Mr. Peregrine had no liking for uninvited visitors.
“He’ll have to stop when he gets to the fence,” panted Tom; “my, but he can run!”
“Yes, and maybe he can show fight, too,” rejoined Jack; “but I guess we can master him.”
“He wouldn’t dare to try anything like that here,” was Jack’s reply.
They now perceived suddenly that the man whom they were pursuing had no intention of scaling the fence without assistance. He was making for a spot where a number of empty packing cases that had contained apparatus were piled.
“Pshaw! He’ll escape us after all,” exclaimed Jack angrily, as he saw this.
Even as he spoke the man reached the boxes and scrambled up on them. In the twinkling of an eye he was over the fence, waving an ironic farewell to the boys as he dropped from view on the other side. When Jack and Tom gained the boxes and, in their turn, clambered up on them, there was no trace of the man. But a vanishing cloud of dust far down the lane showed that, in all likelihood, the yellow auto had been waiting for him at the same spot by which he must have entered the Peregrine estate.
The inventor, with Mr. Jesson and young Ralph, had been inside the “war auto” when the pursuit started, so that they were not aware of what had taken place. But on emerging from the metallic wheeled cylinder, they missed the two lads, and came out of the shed to see what had become of them. Their astonishment on learning of the fruitless pursuit may be imagined.
“I wish you could have caught the man,” said Mr. Peregrine; “this plot is deeper than I thought—it’s desperate—and well planned.—Do you think they saw much?”
“Why, from that window he must have seen everything,” said Jack; “and I notice now that one of the panes of glass is broken. He must have been able to overhear considerable of our conversation, too.”
“In that case my rivals know of my troubles,” he said, and then, overmastering his depression, he resumed, in a more cheerful tone, “but Pythias Peregrine will fight—yes, sir—to the last ditch—they shan’t steal my invention if I can help it.—They are rich and powerful, yes—but I’ll give them a battle.”