"Well, we hope you're the man who lands them," said Frank cheerfully, as he edged the car out from the curb again. "So long."
The boys drove away, and Con Riley patiently resumed his beat.
"The game is still open," remarked Joe. "If the police had learned anything new, Riley would have heard about it."
"Whenever he says they're following up clues, you can be certain that they're up against it. The thieves are just as much at large as they ever were."
It was beginning to rain heavily before they reached the outskirts of Bayport and by the time they were well out on the Shore Road the storm was upon them. Thunder rolled and rumbled in the blackening sky and jagged streaks of lightning flickered through the clouds. Rain streamed down in the glare of the headlights.
As the downpour grew in violence, the road became more treacherous. Without chains, the rear wheels of the car skidded and slithered on the greasy surface.
One of the numerous defects of the roadster's mechanism was a loose steering wheel. Under ordinary circumstances it gave little trouble, but on this treacherous road, Frank experienced difficulty in keeping the car on its course.
Just outside Bayport was a steep hill, dipping to the bluffs that overhung the bay. Under the influence of the rain, the sloping road had become wet and sticky, and as the roadster began the descent Frank knew he was in for trouble.
The car skidded wildly, and the faulty brakes did not readily respond. Once, the nose of the roadster appeared to be heading directly toward the steep bluff, where only a narrow ledge separated the boys from a terrible plunge onto the rocks of the beach below. Joe gave a gasp of apprehension, but Frank bore down on the wheel and managed to swing the car back onto the road again in the nick of time.
But the danger was not yet over.