"In the parking space half a block below the restaurant. A
chauffeur standing near the curb told me that a man in a cap and
goggles--"

"Another amateur detective," cut in McBirney parenthetically.

"--had come out of the restaurant, or seemed to do so, had spun
the engine, climbed in, and rode off--just like that!"

"What did you do then?" asked Garrick. "Did you fellows go
anywhere?"

"Oh, Forbes wanted to play the wheel, and went around to a place
on Forty-eighth Street. I was all upset about the loss of the car,
got in touch with the insurance company, who turned me over to
McBirney here, and the rest of the fellows went down to the Club."

"There was no trace of the car in the city?" asked Garrick, of the
detective.

"I was coming to that," replied McBirney. "There was at least a
rumour. You see, I happen to know several of the police on fixed
posts up there, and one of them has told me that he noticed a car,
which might or might not have been Mr. Warrington's, pull up,
about the time his car must have disappeared, at a place in Forty-
seventh Street which is reputed to be a sort of poolroom for
women."

Garrick raised his eyebrows the fraction of an inch.