“This doctor, his office it is in the next block?” asked Don Ferdinand. Jack Hannaford nodded. “It grows dusk,” said the old Don, “but,” he added, in a tone of conviction, “but I am certain that ees my friend’s car I see.” He pointed.
Twilight had come. Purple dusk lay over the quiet street. Graceful pepper trees lining the curbing enhanced the shadows beneath them. Yet it was not so dark but what those who had seen it before felt pretty certain that the car parked at the opposite curb in the next block was that borrowed from his friend by Don Ferdinand and stolen from the latter by Ramirez. The shadows were growing deeper, yet the lines of the car and the occasional glimmer of polished trimmings could not be mistaken. Hannaford gave confirmation.
“That’s where Doc Garfield’s house is.”
“Look here,” said Jack, taking the initiative. “We’ve got the advantage of surprise. They won’t be expecting us. Let’s dash up beside them, and demand their surrender. We’ll be on them before they can know what is happening. Mr. Hannaford, who knows the house, can lead a group inside in a dash that ought to bag Ramirez without trouble, especially as he’s got a busted arm.”
Nobody could suggest any better plan.
“Furthermore,” said Jack, addressing the aviators, “the car you fellows are driving better fall to the rear. Ramirez’s men have seen it.”
Arrangements were quickly made, a number of aviators transferring to the taxi previously occupied by the older men, while Captain Cornell took his place in that occupied by the three boys. One was to range up alongside the stolen car, the other to draw up behind it, whereupon its occupants could pile out and take the gangsters on the other side. As for Hannaford and his group, who were to enter the house, they were to go up a side street and approach from the rear.
“Ramirez may see what’s going on out front, and take to his heels out the back door,” said Hannaford. “If he does, we’ll bag him.”
This arrangement was satisfactory to everybody except the three older men. Mr. Hampton was regretful because his wounded shoulder would keep him out of action. Mr. Temple was plainly nervous and disinclined to have the boys running into danger. And Don Ferdinand bounced up and down, demanding a revolver, so that he could take a hand in the fray. But there was none to spare, and he and his two companions were to stay in the aviators’ car. As for the drivers of the two rented taxis, they were not without experience in affrays of one sort and another in this tempestuous community, and their fares were sufficient guarantee that they would be compensated for any damages sustained. Moreover, they knew Jack Hannaford, whose word with them was law.
“Let’s go,” said Captain Cornell, impatiently.