There was a grass-grown path and, turning to the right as I had been bidden, I followed it cautiously.

My lantern was closed, the revolver was in my hand.

I heard not a sound.

Presently a large dark object loomed out of the gloom ahead of me.

It was the summer-house.
Reaching the steps, I mounted them and found myself confronted by a weak, rickety wooden door, which hung upon the latch.