It took about twenty minutes to reach the address indicated on the card. Tom pointed out the restaurant to his companion, who gave him a dollar bill. Then with a brusque nod and a searching glance all about him, he entered the restaurant.
Tom crossed the street and reached a sheltering doorway. His eyes were fixed on the restaurant. What should he do next? He had almost decided to recross the street, enter the place and attempt to get nearer to the object of his interest, when a man came around the corner.
“It’s Brady—it is the man I saw at Rockley Cove,” declared Tom.
Brady wore a hat pulled well down over his face. His manner was hurried and furtive, like that of a person suspicious of every passer-by. He bolted quickly into the restaurant.
“I must do something now—something worth while,” breathed Tom hurriedly. “There can be no doubt in the world that those two men have met here to do something about Harry. They may go away by some other exit. I’ll do it.”
These last words announced a definite decision on the part of Tom, as his eye fell upon a policeman in uniform standing at the nearest street corner. Tom approached him, full of his plan.
“Officer,” he said politely, “do you ever arrest a person without a warrant?”
“I’d arrest me own brother on suspicions if he deserved it,” announced the man in uniform bluntly.
“I am in trouble,” said Tom rapidly, “and I wish you would help me.”
“Spake out, me lad,” directed the big bustling officer.