"Another of them?" One of the policemen looked doubtfully at the rest. "Too many of you telling that tale tonight. And the last one said there was a scorcher behind him. Have you got any papers? He had them!"
Harry groaned! So Graves had managed to strike at him, even when he was miles away. Evidently he, too, had been held up, evidently, also, he had used Harry's credentials to get out of the scrape speeding had put him in.
"No, I haven't any credentials," he said, angrily. "But you can see my uniform, can't you? I'm a Boy Scout, and we're all under government orders now, like soldiers or sailors."
"That's too thin, my lad," said the policeman who seemed to be recognized as the leader. "Everyone, we've caught for speeding too fast since the war began has blamed it on the war. We'll have to take you along, my boy. They telephoned to us from places you passed—they said you were going so fast it was dangerous. And we saw you ourselves."
In vain Harry pleaded. Now that he knew that Graves had used his credentials from Colonel Throckmorton, he decided that it would be foolish to claim his own identity. Graves had assumed that, and he had had the practically conclusive advantage of striking the first blow. So Harry decided to submit to the inevitable with the best grace he could muster.
"All right," he said. "I'll go along with you, officer. But you'll be sorry before it's over!"
"Maybe, sir," said the policeman. "But orders is orders, sir, and I've got to obey them. Not that I likes running a young gentleman like yourself in. But—"
"Oh, I know you're only doing your duty, as you see it, officer," he said. "Can't be helped—but I'm sorry. It's likely to cause a lot of trouble."
So he surrendered. But, even while he was doing so, he was planning to escape from custody.