She gave the address of the tall old house, and he wrote it down. She stammered then, “There is another thing I want to mention. I don’t care to have anyone come to the house in a . . . any kind of truck with a sign on it. That is, if anyone happened to be . . . to be around outside . . .” She stumbled to a halt, her face alternately blanched and crimson. He was looking at her directly now, a stare of open curiosity.

“It’s not an outer door?”

“No. A bedroom.”

“You prefer that we come in a private automobile?”

“Yes, please.”

“What about our satchel of tools? The boxes of locks?”

She saw gratefully that he had quickly grasped her need of secrecy. “Could you disguise them somehow? If I were to buy some groceries——”

He thought it over for a moment, tapping his teeth with the pencil. He had the air, she thought, of entering into a game. Could it be, she wondered briefly, that he considered that he was humoring a crocked old lady? “I have even a better idea. Now, you just don’t want to advertise that you’re bringing in a locksmith, is that it?”

She nodded mutely.

“Well, what about a plumber?”

She looked blankly into his friendly gaze, not understanding.

“I know of a plumber’s truck I could borrow. Has the plumber’s sign on it.”

“Why, that would be fine!”

“How about tomorrow morning?”

For an instant she didn’t grasp it, and then she felt the blood drain from her skin. “Oh, but this must be done today!” She had a moment’s horrifying image of herself lying awake tonight listening for the thief.

“I’m not sure that I can borrow the truck today, the other truck. Besides, you see, I have a partner in this business. He’s out now on a commercial job and won’t be back till late. I could hardly leave the office for such a length of time.”

She was desperate. “Ten dollars extra if you’ll come today!”

He nodded. “For ten dollars I’ll come right this minute.”

“No. There’s someone that I . . . Could you make it at one o’clock?” A plan had come spinning into her head from nowhere. Karen loved the big downtown stores. She’d pretend she hadn’t found what she wanted here and send Karen downtown for the afternoon to look for it. Something inexpensive and hard to find, some certain brand of wax or polish. But no. In Karen’s unusual mood she might become discouraged too quickly. Here Mrs. Havermann, recalling that moment on the stairs, had a twinge of guilt. Best to give the girl something to look for that she’d find interesting, some folderol thing. Cosmetics. Or clothes. Or perfume. That was it, some kind of cologne they didn’t make any more. Keep her running to perfume counters, a pleasant chore.