t the ferry, parked so you
can slide out easy. Get down there by that big gum sign. I'll find you,
all right."

"I'll be there." Bud thrust the key and another ten dollars into his
pocket and turned away.

"And don't say anything--"

"Do I look like an open-faced guy?"

The man laughed. "Not much, or I wouldn't have picked you for the
trip." He hurried down to the depot platform, for his train was already
whistling, farther down the yards.

Bud looked after him, the corners of his mouth taking their normal,
upward tilt. It began to look as though luck had not altogether deserted
him, in spite of the recent blow it had given. He slid the wrapped
number plates into the inside pocket of his overcoat, pushed his hands
deep into his pockets, and walked up to the cheap hotel which had been
his bleak substitute for a home during his trouble. He packed everything
he owned--a big suitcase held it all by squeezing--paid his bill at the
office, accepted a poor cigar, and in return said, yes, he was going to
strike out and look for work; and took the train for Oakland.

A street car landed him within two blocks of the address on the tag, and
Bud walked through thickening fog and dusk to the place. Foster had a
good-looking house, he observed. Set back on the middle of two lots, it
was, with a cement drive sloping up from the street to the garage backed
against the alley. Under cover of lighting a cigarette, he inspected the
place before he ventured farther. The blinds were drawn down--at least
upon the side next the drive. On the other he thought he caught a gleam
of light at the rear; rather, the beam that came from a gleam of light
in Foster's dining room or kitchen shining on the next house. But he was
not certain of it, and the absolute quiet reassured him so that he went
up the drive, keeping on the grass border until he reached the garage.
This, he told himself, was just like a woman--raising the deuce around
so that a man had to sneak into his own place to get his own car out of
his own garage. If Foster was up against the kind of deal Bud had been
up against, he sure had Bud's sympathy, and he sure would get the best
help Bud was capable of giving him.

The key fitted the lock, and Bud went in, set down his suitcase, and
closed the door after him. It was dark as a pocket in there, save where
a square of grayness betrayed a window. Bud felt his way to the side
of the car, groped to the robe rail, found a heavy, fring