“We’ll spread an alarm at once,” said Edgar. “See that you are released at once by the police. Then come here at once.”
Bob turned to the sergeant.
“Satisfied about my identity?” he asked.
“You’re okay,” grinned the sergeant, handing back the leather case, which Bob slipped into his coat.
“I’ll be over at once,” he promised the federal chief.
He stepped out of the booth and started to hasten toward the door, but a question from the sergeant detained him.
“Can you give us a description of that car? We’ll have it broadcast over the police radio and also on the teletype circuit. Some of our men may pick up the machine and the sooner we can get a report the better chance we’ll have of finding your uncle.”
Bob’s description of the car was meager. He wasn’t even sure of the make, but it had looked like a large Romney sedan.
“The windshield is shattered and there ought to be a number of bullet marks on the body,” he said. “I guess that will be the best way to identify it.”
“We’ll shut down on every road out of the city. They can’t get away,” promised the sergeant, as he stepped back into the booth to telephone the description to police headquarters.