"
"Then square yourself this way," urged Rumson. "Send a note now by hand
to Ham Cutler and one to your sister. Tell _them_ you're going to Ida
Earle's--and why--tell them you're afraid it's a frame-up, and for them
to keep your notes as evidence. And enclose the one from her."
Wharton nodded in approval, and, while he wrote, Rumson and the
detective planned how, without those inside the road-house being aware
of their presence, they might be near it.
Kessler's Cafe lay in the Seventy-ninth Police Precinct. In taxi-cabs
they arranged to start at once and proceed down White Plains Avenue,
which parallels the Boston Road, until they were on a line with
Kessler's, but from it hidden by the woods and the garages. A walk of a
quarter of a mile across lots and under cover of the trees would bring
them to within a hundred yards of the house.
Wharton was to give them a start of half an hour. That he might know
they were on watch, they agreed, after they dismissed the taxi-cabs, to
send one of them into the Boston Post Road past the road-house.
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