“Then take it from me, Margaret,” declared Chet, decidedly, “a policeman goes into the house with us. I don’t take any chances with those people.”
She nodded again and a few moments later she told him to stop before a certain number. This was, indeed, a crowded and mean section of the town.
“I thought Romany folk lived in the open air and were bold and free—and all that?” said Chet, in disgust, as he stopped the engine and prepared to get out after removing certain plugs so that the car could not be started during their absence.
“In town they live like other poor people. They camp in a cheap flat. But they would not remain here long if they did not hope to get hold of me,” replied Margit, quietly.
“Hullo! You’re running right into trouble, perhaps,” said Chet, doubtfully.
“What if I am? That girl, Eve, was good to me. And those other girls are my friends. We will get her free so that she may get to the athletic field in time. What?”
“I guess it is what,” admitted Chet, to himself.
Then he saw an officer and beckoned to the man. A few words explained their need.
“Ha! I was told to keep an eye on those folk. I know ’em,” said the policeman. “And this is the girl who was with them before?” and he stared curiously at Margit Salgo.
They went quickly into the house and up to the floor that the girl remembered very well indeed. She pointed out the door of the flat and Chet rapped upon it. The officer kept in the shadow.