“We’ll get him tonight or he’ll get us,” Tom flashed back grimly.
CHAPTER XX
THE ZERO HOUR
It was night. The small clock on Tom Howe’s desk was ticking its way toward nine. Tom sat by the window. With one eye squinting through his telescope, he kept up a running conversation with Jimmie. Tom did most of the talking which was unusual for him. Perhaps this gave him an outlet for the excitement bottled up inside of him.
“Something tells me things will be popping soon,” he said, shifting his position a little. “Well, let them start. We’ll be right on their tail.
“Wonder if they ever thought it strange that a large sign should be put up on the storage place back of their garage and then a flood-light trained on it.”
“Probably not,” said Jimmie. “There are flood-lights all over the city.”
“It helps anyway.” Tom smiled. “I can see every car or truck that leaves, just as if it were day. We’ll get them if they make a move.”
“And the Bubble Man?” Jimmie suggested.
“Yes,” Tom’s brow wrinkled. “There’s the Bubble Man. I don’t mind admitting he’s got me worried. You see, we’re used to automatics, even machine guns, but a fellow like that—it—it’s sort of like hunting rattle-snakes for years, then coming on one of those puffing adders. You don’t know how to go after him.
“But we’ll get him,” his voice picked up. “You’ll see.