Polly, appeased and delighted with the adventure, giggled. “I’d think not, indeed.”
“It is lawbreaking, but I am inclined to back you up,” confided Steingall to Carshaw when the car was humming back to East Orange. “At the worst you can only be charged with trespass, as my evidence will be taken that you had no unlawful intent.”
“Won’t you come with me?”
“Better not. You see, I am only helping you. You have an excuse; I, as an official, have none—if a row springs up and doors have to be kicked open, for instance. Moreover, this is the State of New Jersey and outside my bailiwick.”
“Perhaps the joker behind us may be useful.”
“He will be, or his girl will know the reason why. He may have fought in every battle in the Spanish War, but she has more pep in her.”
The soldierly plumber was as good as his word. He produced the ladder and the tarpaulin, and a steel wrench as well.
“If you do a thing at all do it thoroughly. That’s what Funston taught us,” he grinned.
Carshaw thanked him, and in a few minutes they were again looking at the tall gate and the dark masses of the garden trees silhouetted against the sky. They had not encountered many wayfarers during their three journeys. The presence of a car at the entrance to such a pretentious place would not attract attention, and the scaling of the wall was only a matter of half a minute.