“See that large, black truck up ahead?” Tom said to the driver.
“Yes, sir.”
“Follow it. Don’t lose it.”
“Yes, sir.”
They turned a corner, dodged a street car, got caught by a light, lost their scent for a time, then picked it up again.
“You remember that garage I was watching from my lofty perch?” said Tom.
“Sure, I do,” said Jimmie.
“We’re following one of the two trucks stored there by Tungsten and his gang. Crooks store trucks for a purpose. On the side you’ll read the words:
TOWN’S END TRANSFER
“They’ll transfer something, right enough,” Tom laughed. “Perhaps today, though I doubt it. Not at noon. This may be a rehearsal.”