“That taxi-driver was a keen one, he was. He trailed your machine like he was trackin’ a band of Injuns. Cops saw you pass, and switchmen at the trolley crossin’s.
“So we got here just as the taxi was whiskin’ his nibs away——”
“Then he’s not in the house?”
“I knew he wasn’t when I asked,” said Scorch, calmly. “He’s beat it for Garvan’s. That’s where we’ll go, too.”
“Oh, Scorch!” cried Jennie. “You’re wonderful. How you going to get us out?”
“Not by the window, I hope,” murmured Nancy.
“Of course not,” the young man replied. “See here.”
He produced from either trousers leg the two parts of a jointed steel bar. It went together with a sharp click and proved to be a burglar’s “jimmy” of the most approved pattern.
“Scorch O’Brien! Where did you get that thing?” demanded Nancy. “You could be arrested with it in your possession.”
“Forget it,” advised Scorch, easily. “My next-door neighbor is a cop. He let me have it, and I’ll show you how to use it.”