"Looks like storming the fortress, eh?" he remarked. "Here goes, any way."

The gate swung open with a single turn of the wrist. Quest glanced for a
moment at the lock and replaced the instrument in his pocket.

"The Professor's not looking for visitors," he muttered. "Gee! What a
wilderness!"

It was hard to know which way to turn. Every path was choked with tangled
weeds and bushes. Here and there remained one or two wonderful old trees,
but the vegetation for the greater part consisted of laurel and other
shrubs, which from lack of attention had grown almost into a jungle. They
wandered about almost aimlessly for nearly half-an-hour. Then Quest came
to a sudden standstill. Lenora gripped his arm. They had both heard the
same sound--a queer, crooning little cry, half plaintive, half angry.
Quest looked over his right shoulder along a narrow, overgrown path which
seemed to end abruptly in an evergreen hedge.

"What's that?" he exclaimed.

Lenora still clung to his arm.

"I hate this place," she whispered. "It terrifies me. What are we looking
for, Mr. Quest?"

"Can't say that I know exactly," the latter answered, "but I guess we'll
find out where that cry came from. Sounded to me uncommonly like a human
effort."

They made their way up as far as the hedge, which they skirted for a few