“He won’t make a complaint,” said Steve.
“Then get out of here!” ordered the Sergeant, in a terrifying voice to Pete and his companion, and those two reprobates did get out with wonderful agility.
After they had gone Allan was surprised to notice what a pleasant smile the Sergeant had. Dobbs went on to tell Allan, and the Sergeant at the same time, how he had caught a glimpse of the man with the white face, whom he called the Ghost; how the man darted into the alley; how he had pursued him through the two alleys into the side street, and into other alleys; how he had lost him, summoned the assistance of a policeman, and searched several houses for him; how they caught him at last stretched on his face under the rafters.
“And I have been looking for him for three years!” chuckled Dobbs.
“What did he do?” asked Allan.
“Do? What didn’t he do? That fellow’s been bad ever since he began to breathe. We want him in Hazenfield for a store robbery and nearly killing a watchman. Did I worry you some by running away?” “I was bothered a little,” admitted Allan.
“Well, I’ve got to leave the Ghost here until court hours to-morrow, and I’ll be going back to Hazenfield soon. Suppose we take another turn around before we go back.”
“I’ll have to change my plates, somehow,” said Allan.
“All right,” and the detective went back to find the doorman. Presently he returned with a sprightly, gray-haired man at his elbow. “The doorman says he has just the place for you here.”
The place suggested by the doorman proved to be quite what Allan needed, as far as being dark, for when he had closed the door there was not a speck of light anywhere. It was a large closet with an old trunk in one corner, an old coat with brass buttons hanging over it. A musty smell pervaded the place, a rat scampered somewhere in the darkness, and Allan did not especially enjoy the interval during which he transferred his used plates to the box, and the new plates to the holders.