"We had better get out and walk the
rest of the way."
The garage which we sought proved to be nothing but an old brick
stable. It was of such a character that even charity could not
have said that it had seen much better days for generations. It
was dark, evil looking. Except for a slinking figure here and
there in the distance the street about us was deserted. Even our
footfalls echoed and Garrick warned us to tread softly. I longed
for the big stick, that went with the other half of the phrase.
He paused a moment to observe the place. It was near the corner
and a dim-lighted Raines law saloon on the next cross street ran
back almost squarely to the stable walls, leaving a narrow yard.
Apparently the garage itself had been closed for the night, if,
indeed, it was ever regularly open. Anyone who wanted to use it
must have carried a key, I surmised.
We crossed over stealthily. Garrick put his ear to an ordinary
sized door which had been cut out of the big double swinging doors
of the stable, and listened.
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