“Say, Mr. Quest,” he exclaimed, as they turned away, “I know these men are wanted on your charge, but I thought—you’ll excuse my saying so—that you were in some trouble yourself.”
Quest nodded.
“I’m out of that—came out yesterday.”
“Very glad to hear it,” the Sheriff assured him heartily. “I never thought that they’d be able to hold you.”
“They hadn’t a chance,” Quest admitted. “Things turned out a little awkwardly at first, but this affair is going to put me on my feet again. The moment my car is identified and Red Gallagher and his mate arrested, every scrap of evidence against me goes.”
“Well, here’s the garage and the man who bought the car,” the Sheriff remarked, “and there’s the car itself in the road. It’s for you to say whether it can be identified.”
Quest drew a sigh of relief.
“That’s mine, right enough,” he declared. “Now for the men.”
“Say, I want to tell you something,” the Sheriff began dubiously. “These two are real thugs. They ain’t going to take it lying down.”
“Where are they?” Quest demanded.