Guy Garrick HTML version

11. 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
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. Evidently in their
haste they had not had time to cut the wires or to spread the news, yet, of the
raid. Someone who knew nothing of what had happened was calling up.
Garrick quickly unhooked the receiver, with a hasty motion to us to remain silent.
"Hello," we heard him answer. "Yes, this is it. Who is this?"