Pembroke laughed choppily as he followed Clancy down the street.
“You’re a wonder, old man!” he cried. “And I thought, when I nailed you, that I had one of the thieves!”
Two dark figures could be seen rushing across the street toward the dark bulk of the car.
“There they go!” exclaimed Clancy. “They’ve got a surprise in store for themselves! Look, they’re trying to crank the engine.”
One of the forms could be seen working at the front of the car. He started up with a frantic oath.
“Take to your heels, Chantay! They’ve tampered with the car! Run!”
A figure jumped from the tonneau of the machine and flung off through the night. Hibbard, who had been pulling the crank, ran back along the line of palm trees.
Clancy took after him, and, for a minute, there was an exciting chase. Clancy, however, was far and away the better sprinter. As he came close to Hibbard, the latter turned and brandished a revolver.
“Keep off,” he yelled, “or I’ll drop you!”
Clancy ducked, lurched forward, and came up under the extended arm whose hand gripped the revolver. There was a bit of a struggle, and then Hibbard fell, the red-headed chap on top of him.