“If I can get up there, by gracious, I might get a look into that room, at least,” he said to himself. “A look might help. I’ll make a bid for it, even if I have to seek aid from whomever runs the shebang.” Feeling around a rear corner of the garage, bent upon finding a way to the front, Patsy discovered that the alternate corner blocks of cement were set inward about half an inch, a quite common and slightly ornamental construction, as courses of bricks at uniform distances are sometimes laid. Naturally, of course, each receding block left a slight projection, the upper edge of that on which it was set, and Patsy was not long in finding that he could fix his toes on these projections, and, by grasping those above that he could mount to the garage roof almost as easily as if provided with a ladder. “Gee! this was softer than I could have hoped,” he said to himself when seated on the edge of the low roof. “The house is near, but not quite near enough. By Jove, if I had only a piece of--holy smoke! I’m a smelt if I haven’t got it. Things sure are coming my way.” It was a piece of board that had caught his eye, a strip about six feet long and as many inches wide, and which evidently had been overlooked by the builders when cleaning up the roof of the garage. Patsy seized it with much the same avidity as a terrier seizes a rat. Creeping along the roof with it he quickly reached a point directly opposite the lighted window of the dwelling--that already specially noticed. A narrow beam of light was shed out below the roller shade, lending a faint glow to the misty night air. Through the narrow space between the curtain and sash, however, Patsy could see only that there were several persons in the back room, which evidently was a kitchen, and he was too far from the closed window to hear their voices. “Gee whittaker! I’ve got to get still nearer,” he said to himself, ruefully gazing into the black abyss below. “I might as well be on top of the Flatiron Building. I must take a chance with this plank, by gracious, if I lose a leg.” Crouching on his hands and knees, proceeding all the while with the utmost quietude and caution, Patsy found that the strip of board was long enough to reach from the outside stone sill of the window to the edge of the garage roof, with about a three-inch rest on each end. “It will support me, all right,” he muttered, gazing at it after having gingerly placed it in position. “Gee! but it’s a ticklish crawl. Can I wriggle out on it without displacing one end, or the other? If not, it will be a quick trip to the ground for mine.” Patsy viewed it doubtfully for several moments. It was a stunt from which the boldest would have shrunk. Then he looked at the lighted window again and listened vainly--and his face then took on an expression that spoke louder than words.