He thought he would be back in time
to meet Jack, and so he strolled on, going more cautiously now, for, in
a few minutes he would come in sight of the old, deserted house, and he
did not know what he might find there.
Mark's first sight of the Preakness homestead was of two old stone
posts, that had once formed a fine gateway. The posts were in ruins,
now, and half fallen down, being covered with Virginia creeper, the
leaves of which were now a vivid red, mingled with green.
"Nothing very alarming there," said Mark, half aloud. He could just
catch a glimpse of the roof of the house over the tops of the trees,
which had not yet shed all their leaves. "Guess I'll go on a little
farther. Maybe our friend, the enemy, is sitting on the front porch,
sunning himself."
Past the old gateway Mark continued, intending to proceed along the
highway until he got directly in front of the old mansion. There, he
knew, he would have a good view, unobstructed by trees or shrubbery.
When the lad got to this place in the road, he paused, and stooped
over, as if tying the lace of his shoe, for it was his intention to
pass himself off, if possible, as a casual passer-by, so that in case
the mysterious man should be in the house, his suspicions would not be
aroused by seeing the youth to whom he had written the note staring in
at him.
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