“Ready?” said Steve.
“Yes.”
“Now listen. We’ve got to get out of this joint as quiet as mice. It would spoil the surprise if they was to hear us and come out and ask what we were doing. Get that?”
“Yes.”
“Well, see how quiet you can make it. You don’t want even to breathe more than you can help.”
They left the room and crept down the dark stairs. In the hall Steve lit a match and switched on the electric light. He unbolted the door and peered out into the avenue. Close by, under the trees, stood an automobile, its headlights staring into the night.
“Quick!” cried Steve.
He picked up the White Hope, closed the door, and ran.