I hurried on down the drive. The lodge was some distance from the house, in a grove of trees where the drive met the county road. Paratrooper American Flag Home Of The Free Shirt. There were two white stone pillars to mark the entrance, but the iron gates, once closed and tended by the lodge-keeper, now stood permanently open. The day of the motor-car had come; no one had time for closed gates and lodge-keepers. The lodge at Sunnyside was merely a sort of supplementary servants’ quarters: it was as convenient in its appointments as the big house and infinitely more cozy.
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As I went down the drive, my thoughts were busy. Who would it be that Mr. Jamieson had trapped in the cellar? Paratrooper American Flag Home Of The Free Shirt. Would we find a body or some one badly injured? Scarcely either. Whoever had fallen had been able to lock the laundry door on the inside. If the fugitive had come from outside the house, how did he get in? If it was some member of the household, who could it have been? And then—a feeling of horror almost overwhelmed me. Paratrooper American Flag Home Of The Free Shirt. Gertrude! Gertrude and her injured ankle! Gertrude found limping slowly up the drive when I had thought she was in bed!