The checkered cab swung out of the park, turning left into the busy business street. Immediately it picked up speed.
“It looks as if they’re really going somewhere now,” thought Flash. “Probably they were only waiting for me to give up the chase.”
The temptation to follow once more was too great to resist. Hurrying to the main thoroughfare, he glanced up and down for another taxi. He sighted one drifting by on the opposite side of the street, and hailed it.
The driver made a quick turn, pulling up beside him.
“Follow that checkered cab,” Flash ordered, slamming the door. “Keep well back if it slows down.”
The taxi ahead did not slacken speed. On the contrary, Flash and his driver lost sight of it several times and were hard pressed to remain in the race. The trail led through downtown Brandale toward the waterfront.
Before many minutes the two cabs were twisting down a narrow street which Flash recognized as the site of the Fenmore Warehouse. In passing the darkened building, the taxi ahead slackened speed somewhat. Whether or not this action was deliberate, he could not determine.
The car cruised past the building. Three blocks farther on, it drew up at a street corner. Two of the men alighted, while the third passenger rode away in the cab.
Telling his own driver to pull up farther down the street, Flash climbed out. His funds had been whittled again, and seemingly to no purpose. He was disgusted.
The two men had turned and were walking swiftly down the deserted street, their backs to the photographer. As he watched, his interest kindled. One of the men carried a small black case.