“No use in doin’ that,” announced the young man. “The house stands way back, an’ is hidden by trees.”
“I mean having a look at it, wall or no wall,” insisted Carshaw.
“But the gate is spiked and the wall covered with broken glass,” said the girl.
“Such obstacles can be surmounted by ladders and folded tarpaulins, or even thick overcoats,” observed Steingall.
“I’m a plumber,” said the East Orange man. “If you care to run back to my place, I c’n give you a telescope ladder and a tarpaulin. But perhaps we may butt into trouble?”
“For shame, Jim! I thought you’d do a little thing like that to help a girl in distress.”
“First I’ve heard of any girl.”
“My name is Carshaw,” came the prompt assurance. “Here’s my card; read it by the lamp there. I’ll guarantee you against consequences, pay any damages, and reward you if our search yields results.”
“Jim—” commenced the girl reproachfully, but he stayed her with a squeeze.
“Cut it out, Polly,” he said. “You don’t wish me to start housebreaking, do you? But if there’s a lady to be helped, an’ Mr. Carshaw says it’s O.K., I’m on. A fellow who was with Funston in the Philippines won’t sidestep a little job of that sort.”