His long legs carried him around the room, as unthinkingly, he strode up and down over the various bundles that were strewn around the floor. A thought struck the man who called himself the Picaroon. "Where could we steal an R.A.'s car?" This, of course, was the crux of Comstock's plan. Looking as unconcerned as he could, Comstock said, "Why, it just happens that Pat and I know where there is an abandoned car." "An abandoned car?" The Picaroon grinned delightedly, snapped his fingers and said, "Then come, the night is young and there is dirty work to be done!" Running to Pat's side he released her. She rose, rubbed her fingers to restore the circulation and then untied Comstock. Comstock eyed her torn dress, the involuntary deshabille that revealed more of her firm young b.....s than he thought any other man in the world should be in a position to observe and said to the Picaroon, "Remember, this is a most dangerous adventure on which we are about to embark. We are wanted as badly by the R.A.'s as you will be once you have snipped off The Grandfather's beard! We'd best wear some disguise." "Then," the Picaroon said, "You two are really not police spies at all, are you?" "Wait and see what the R.A.'s do to us if they catch us," Pat said grimly, while she rooted through a rag bag of old clothes trying to find some sort of garment with which to clothe herself. "How exciting," the Picaroon said, slapping his hands together in delight, "and to think I was just about to crown my criminal career by murdering this man." Comstock tried not to think about how close his demise had been and watched fascinatedly while Pat dropped her torn dress to the floor and donned a shapeless gown. But when he saw the Picaroon was busy searching for male clothes he turned away from the delectable sight of Pat's n..e body and took the clothes that the Picaroon gave him. A floppy hat had a big enough brim so that in the dark Comstock's face would be hidden. A tight pair of trousers and a too big jacket of a different color than the things he had been wearing would have to suffice as a disguise. All Comstock could do really, was hope and pray that they would be able to get, with the Picaroon's aid, near enough to Bowdler's house so that while the Picaroon was busy trying to understand the mechanics of the abandoned car, he and Pat could make a run for it through the force field at the proper time. * * * * * The trip through the darkened city was a revelation to both Pat and Comstock. In Comstock's earlier, law-abiding incarnation, there had never been a night that found him in bed later than the curfew at ten. To find that the streets were completely deserted at two, or three o'clock in the morning came as no surprise, since he knew that all lawful souls would, of course, be asleep at that time.