Steingall, inclined at first to doubt the expediency of gossip with the girl, now p.r.i.c.ked up his ears.

"Who lives in Gateway House?" he asked.

"No one that I know of at the moment," she answered. "It used to belong to a mad doctor. I don't mean a doctor who was mad, but----"

"No matter about his sanity. Is he dead?"

"No, in prison. There was a trial two years ago."

"Oh! I remember the affair. A patient was beaten to death. So the house is empty?"

"It is, unless some one has rented it recently. I was taken through the place months ago. The rooms are all right, and it has beautiful grounds, but the windows frightened me. They were closely barred with iron, and the doors were covered with locks and chains. There were some old beds there, too, with straps on them. Oh, I quite shivered!"

"After we have eaten will you let us drive you in that direction in my car?" said Carshaw.

She simpered and blushed slightly. "I've an appointment with a friend,"

she admitted, wondering whether the swain would protest too strongly if she accepted the invitation.

"Bring him also," said Carshaw. "I a.s.sume it's a 'he.'"

"Oh, that'll be all right!" she cried.

So in the deepening gloom the automobile flared with fierce eyes along the quiet road to Gateway House, and in its seat of honor sat the hotel maid and her young man.

"That is the place," she said, after the, to her, all too brief run.

"Is this the only entrance?" demanded the chief, as he stepped out to try the gate.

"Yes. The high wall runs right round the property. It's quite a big place."

"Locked!" he announced. "Probably empty, too."

He tried squinting through the keyhole to catch a gleam of interior light.

"No use in doin' that," announced the young man. "The house stands way back, an' is hidden by trees."

"I mean having a look at it, wall or no wall," insisted Carshaw.

"But the gate is spiked and the wall covered with broken gla.s.s," said the girl.

"Such obstacles can be surmounted by ladders and folded tarpaulins, or even thick overcoats," observed Steingall.

"I'm a plumber," said the East Orange man. "If you care to run back to my place, I c'n give you a telescope ladder and a tarpaulin. But perhaps we may b.u.t.t into trouble?"

"For shame, Jim! I thought you'd do a little thing like that to help a girl in distress."

"First I've heard of any girl."

"My name is Carshaw," came the prompt a.s.surance. "Here's my card; read it by the lamp there. I'll guarantee you against consequences, pay any damages, and reward you if our search yields results."

"Jim--" commenced the girl reproachfully, but he stayed her with a squeeze.

"Cut it out, Polly," he said. "You don't wish me to start housebreaking, do you? But if there's a lady to be helped, an' Mr. Carshaw says it's O.K., I'm on. A fellow who was with Funston in the Philippines won't sidestep a little job of that sort."

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 trespa.s.s, 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 ma.s.ses 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.

"No use in raising the dust by knocking. Go over," counseled Steingall.

"Try to open the gate. Then you can return the ladder and tarpaulin at once. Otherwise, leave them in position. If satisfied that the house is inhabited by those with whom you have no concern, come away unnoticed, if possible."

Carshaw climbed the ladder, sat on the tarpaulin, and dropped the ladder on the inner side of the wall. They heard him shaking the gate. His head reappeared over the wall.

"Locked," he said, "and the key gone. I'll come back and report quickly."

Jim, who had been nudged earnestly several times by his companion, cried quickly:

"Isn't your friend goin' along, too, mister?"

"No. I may as well tell you that I am a detective," put in Steingall.

"Gee whizz! Why didn't you cough it up earlier? Hol' on, there! Lower that ladder. I'm with you."

"Good old U. S. Army!" said Steingall, and Polly glowed with pride.

Jim climbed rapidly to Carshaw's side, the latter being astride the wall. Then they vanished.

For a long time the two in the car listened intently. A couple of cyclists pa.s.sed, and a small boy, prowling about, took an interest in the car, but was sternly warned off by Steingall. At last they caught the faint but easily discerned sound of heavy blows and broken woodwork.

"Things are happening," cried Steingall. "I wish I had gone with them."

"Oh, I hope my Jim won't get hurt," said Polly, somewhat pale now.

They heard more furious blows and the crash of gla.s.s.