“All the better! That’s just what we want. Let’s cut across the lot to the back of the place, and sneak up behind the car in the driveway. We can see the porch from there.”
“But I’m afraid we’ll be caught,” objected Jane fearfully.
Nevertheless, she followed Mary Louise around a side street to the rear of the lot, and together they climbed the Grants’ fence, cautiously and silently. Once inside, they crept noiselessly along the grass near the fence until they came to the back of Harry Grant’s car.
There could be no doubt that it was his. At least five years old, with battered mudguards and rusted trimmings, it looked like the relic Elsie had laughed about. It was a small black coupé, with a compartment behind for carrying luggage.
“If Mr. Harry Grant goes for a ride in this, we’re going with him!” announced Mary Louise.
“No!” cried her chum. “How could we?”
“In the luggage compartment.”
“We’d smother.”
“No, we wouldn’t. We’d open the lid after we got started.”
“Suppose he locked us in?”