What he did in this case was to stop in Bakersfield at a garage
that had a combination drugstore and news-stand next door. He
explained shortly to his companions that he had to stop and buy a
road map and that he wouldn't be long, and crawled out into the
rain. At the open doorway of the garage he turned and looked at
the car. No, it certainly did not look in the least like the
machine he had driven down to the Oakland mole--except, of
course, that it was big and of the same make. It might have been
empty, too, for all the sign it gave of being occupied. Foster
and Mert evidently had no intention whatever of showing
themselves.

Bud went into the drugstore, remained there for five minutes
perhaps, and emerged with a morning paper which he rolled up and
put into his pocket. He had glanced through its feature news, and
had read hastily one front-page article that had nothing whatever
to do with the war, but told about the daring robbery of a
jewelry store in San Francisco the night before.

The safe, it seemed, had been opened almost in plain sight of
the street crowds, with the lights full on in the store. A clever
arrangement of two movable mirrors had served to shield the thief
--or thieves. For no longer than two or three minutes, it
seemed, the lights had been off, and it was thought that the
raiders had used the interval of darkness to move the mirrors
into position. Which went far toward proving that the crime had
been carefully planned in advance. Furthermore, the article
stated with some assurance that trusted employees were involved.