Our quest took us to a rather dilapidated old house on the
outskirts of the little Long Island town. The house stood alone,
not far from the tracks of a trolley that ran at infrequent
intervals. Even a hasty reconnoitering showed that to stop our
motor at even a reasonable distance from it was in itself to
arouse suspicion.

Although the house seemed deserted, Craig took no chances, but
directed the car to turn at the next crossroad and then run back
along a road back of and parallel to that on which Annenberg's was
situated. It was perhaps a quarter of a mile away, across an open
field, that we stopped and ran the car up along the side of the
road in some bushes. Annenberg's was plainly visible and it was
not at all likely that anyone there would suspect trouble from
that quarter.

A hasty conference with Burke followed, in which Kennedy unwrapped
his small package, leaving part of its contents with him, and
adding careful instructions.

Then Kennedy and I retraced our steps down the road, across by the
crossroad, and at last back to the mysterious house.

To all appearance there had been no need of such excessive
caution. Not a sound or motion greeted us as we entered the gate
and made our way around to the rear of the house. The very
isolation of the house was now our protection, for we had no
inquisitive neighbors to watch us for the instant when Kennedy,
with the dexterity of a yeggman, inserted his knife between the
sashes of the kitchen window and turned the catch which admitted