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.