CHAPTER XI
THE GANGSTER'S GARAGE
"I have it," exclaimed Garrick, as we were retracing our steps
upstairs from the dank darkness of the cellar. "I would be willing
to wager that that tunnel runs back from this house to that pool-
room for women which we visited on Forty-seventh Street, Marshall.
That must be the secret exit. Don't you see, it could be used in
either direction."
We climbed the stairs and stood again in the wreck of things,
taking a hasty inventory of what was left, in hope of uncovering
some new clew, even by chance.
Garrick shook his head mournfully.
"They had just time enough," he remarked, "to destroy about
everything they wanted to and carry off the rest."
"All except the markers," I corrected.
"That was just a lucky chance," he returned. "Still, it throws an
interesting sidelight on the case."
"It doesn't add much in my estimation to the character of Forbes,"
I ventured, voicing my own suspicions.
The telephone bell rang before Garrick had a chance to reply.
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