The automobile with the constable and two prisoners sped down the road, aiming to stride the main highway leading northward to Augusta. It was a good run, but the machine ought to make it before night closed in, for the days were long and the course was favorable. The officer could have boarded the Gardiner at one of the stopping places and made the journey by water, but nothing was to be gained by so doing.
The chauffeur slowed down and honked as he drew near the turn in the roadway. Just then he saw another auto coming from the north and curving about to enter the road leading to Charmount. It was similar to the car in which our friends were riding and held only one passenger who sat beside the chauffeur, the rear seat being empty.
Something in the appearance of the former struck Alvin as familiar. He was middle-aged, neatly dressed, with sandy mustache and slightly stooping shoulders. He looked sharply at the youth as the machines drew nearer. A moment before they came opposite, he called out:
"Hello, Alvin! where are you going? Gabe, what's up?"
The latter query was addressed to the constable, the two being old acquaintances. Each ordered his chauffeur to stop, and they obeyed, with the machines side by side.
It was at this juncture that Chester, who was the first to recognize the man, called to his companion:
"It's Mr. Keyes Richards from Boothbay Harbor. He used to own the Squirrel Inn, but has shifted over to Mouse Island."
"How do you, do, Mr. Richards?" saluted Alvin. "We are glad to meet you."
"But I say what are you doing in this part of the world?" continued the puzzled Richards.
"Ask him," replied Alvin, jerking his head toward the officer behind him.