CHAPTER TEN
Out From UnderGamadge’s favorite club, a small but rather famous one, had its quarters in a remodeled private house behind Gamadge’s own, on the next street South. The clubhouse had been planned and finished inside and out by a master, long since dead. As Gamadge’s grandfather had been a charter member, and as he and Gamadge’s father had done an immense amount of thankless work for it on committees and boards, a privilege had been granted them and extended to Gamadge himself—the privilege of a connecting gate between the club’s rear premises and the Gamadge back yard.
Gamadge used this gate tonight. He garaged his car in the private building adjoining the clubhouse, and retaining his keys in his hand, went up the white front steps. The night porter let him in—a grandfatherly
