"Maybe, sir," said the policeman. "But orders is orders, sir, and I've got to obey them. Not that I likes running a young gentleman like yourself in. But–"
"Oh, I know you're only doing your duty, as you see it, officer," he said. "Can't be helped–but I'm sorry. It's likely to cause a lot of trouble."
So he surrendered. But, even while he was doing so, he was planning to escape from custody.
[CHAPTER III–A GOOD WITNESS]
Dick's surprise and concern when he found the cache empty and deserted, with papers and motorcycles alike gone, may be imagined. For a moment he thought he must be mistaken; that, after all, he had come to the wrong place. But a quick search of the ground with his flashlight showed him that he had come to the right spot. He could see the tracks made by the wheels of the machine; he could see, also, evidences of the brief struggle between Harry and Graves. For a moment his mystification continued. But then, with a low laugh, Jack Young emerged from the cover in which he had been hiding.
"Hello, there!" he said. "I say, are you Dick Mercer?"
"Yes!" gasped Dick. "But how ever do you know? I never saw you before!"
"Well, you see me now," said Jack. "Harry Fleming told me to look for you here. He said you'd be along some time to-night, if you got away. And he was sure you could get away, too."
"Harry!" said Dick, dazed. "You've seen him? Where is he? Did he get away? And what happened to the cycles and the papers we hid there? Why–"
"Hold on! One question at a time," said Jack. "Keep your shirt on, and I'll tell you all I know about it. Then we can decide what is to be done next. I think I'll attach myself temporarily to your patrol."