A light shone behind the blind of one lower window and showed through a chink under the door.
"The Major 's sitting up late," observed Mr.Rogers, and again flicked up the mare.
Two minutes later he pulled the left rein and we swung through an open gateway and were rolling over soft gravel.

Tall bushes of laurel on either hand glinted back the lights of the tilbury, and presently around a sweep of the drive I saw a window shining.
Mr.Rogers pulled up once more.
"Jump out and take the path to the left.

It'll bring you out almost facing the front door.

Wait among the laurels there." I climbed down and drew my rug about me as he drove on and I heard the tilbury's wheels come to a halt on the gravel before the house.
Then, following the path which wound about a small shrubbery, I came to the edge of the gravel sweep before the porch just as a groom took the mare and cart from him and led them around to the left, towards the stables.

I saw this distinctly, for on the right of the porch, where there ran a pretty deep verandah, each window on the ground floor was lit and flung its light across the gravel to the laurel behind which I crouched.