The checkered cab weaved leisurely through downtown traffic with the occupants apparently unaware they were being trailed. Presently the car turned into the park, winding in and out among the curving streets, and then duplicating its route.
“What do you think?” Flash asked his driver. “Are they wise to the fact that we’re following?”
“Looks to me as if they’re only killing time,” the cabman answered. “Plenty of folks do that if they have an appointment.”
“We’ll trail them for awhile longer,” Flash decided. “Drop farther back.”
He began to watch the meter anxiously. Figures ticked up on the dial with an alarming speed. Flash examined the money in his wallet. He had a little over seven dollars, but it must last him to the end of the week.
“Guess you may as well let me out here,” he said at last. “This sport is getting too expensive for me.”
The cab drew up at the curb, and the one ahead disappeared among the trees. Flash paid his bill and started afoot through the park, intending to return to the Ledger office. Ruefully, he reflected that a sizeable amount of his money was gone, and he had learned nothing.
“Probably my hunch was a crazy one anyway,” he thought. “A man isn’t necessarily a crook because he doesn’t like to have his picture taken.”
As Flash drew near the park entrance, he was startled to have the same checkered cab roll past him.
For a fleeting instant he thought that he might become the target of a brutal attack. Then he realized the three passengers had not seen him. Darkness and the deep shadow of an arching maple tree protected him completely.