“How would you prevent it?” she asked. They chatted pleasantly as he drove around the neighborhood for a half an hour, then stopped by the Diedermayer house. ‘Gérard!’ ‘Yes, it’s I,’ he said, and grinned. It was not a difficult affair. From a scout stationed at the northern entrance, whom she addressed in the jargon of the place, with which long usage had formerly rendered her familiar, she ascertained that Blueskin, accompanied by a youth, whom she knew by the description must be her son, had arrived there about three hours before, and had proceeded to the Cross Shovels. Lucy entered the house by picking the back door lock with the slim jim.
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