"What's that for?"
"You'll see," said Rockwell, grinning, enjoying the mystery.
Simpson remained as silent and grave as an undertaker.
The taxicab had turned several corners and covered perhaps a couple of miles of streets. Now it slowed down, stopped.
"There ain't no 612," said the driver through the tube.
Rockwell took command again.
"Isn't there?" he said. "Let's see."
He got out. Peering through the open door of the taxicab, Merriam could see that the house before which they had stopped was numbered 608.
"612's a vacant lot," he heard the chauffeur say.
"So it seems," Rockwell replied. "Well, we'll get out here anyway."