"I've got a key to the garage," he answered. "The garage is attached to the house, though it opens on the side street."
She held out her hand.
The Sparrow fished in his pocket, and extended the key without hesitation.
"It's for the small door, of course," he explained.
"You haven't got a flashlight, I suppose?" she smiled.
"Sure! There's plenty of 'em! Each car's got one with its tools under the back seat."
She nodded.
"And now, the library," she said. "What part of the house is it in? How is it situated?"
"It's on the ground floor at the back," he told her. "The little short passage from the garage opens on the kitchen, then the pantry, and then there's a little cross hallway, and the dining-room is on the left, and the library on the right. But ain't I going with you?"
She shook her head again.
"You're going home, Marty—after you've sent me a taxicab. If you were seen in that neighborhood now, let alone by any chance seen in the house, nothing could save you. You understand that, don't you? Now, listen! Find a taxi, and send it here. Tell the chauffeur to pick me up, and drive me to the corner of the cross street, one block in the rear of Mr. Hayden-Bond's residence. Don't mention Hayden-Bond's name. Give the chauffeur simply street directions. Be careful that he is some one who doesn't know you. Tell him he will be well paid—and give him this to begin with." She thrust a banknote into the Sparrow's hand. "You're sure to find one at some all-night cabaret around here. And remember, when you go home afterward, not a word to your mother! And
