“What! You?” he gasped in bewilderment.
Tom grasped the true significance of the great good fortune that had come to him. It transcended his wildest dreams. There could have been but one chance in a billion of those two meeting as they did; and yet a strange fate had indeed brought it to pass.
“I’ve come for that paper you stole from my father, Adolph Tuessig!” Tom exclaimed.
At hearing these words Jack came bustling around from the rear of the car, his eyes wide open, and round with wonder.
“Well I never!” he managed to gasp.
The man who had been so strangely brought to bay seemed in a half daze. He stared at Tom as though unable to grasp the thing that had happened.
“Hand that paper over unless you want to give me the trouble of searching you!” ordered Tom firmly. “If I have to, I’ll tear every stitch of your clothing off, to see if it’s hidden under the lining somewhere. Do you hear what I’m saying?”
By degrees comprehension took the place of bewilderment on the man’s face. He evidently realized that it was of little use trying to escape such a determined pursuer who could follow him even into the heart of hostile territory, and aboard an airplane at that. His courage deserted him, and he was ready to raise the white flag of surrender.
“I—I—haven’t got—” he stammered.
“No nonsense, Tuessig! I want what you stole from my father. Hand it over, or I’ll—” and Tom made a threatening gesture.