Looking back he saw the car swing wildly, veer toward the far side of the street, and finally straighten out in pursuit of them.
“You seem to spell ’trouble’ with capital letters,” said the federal agent as he joined Bob in peering out the window. “Maybe you’d better give me that paper. They know you’ve got it and if we get in a jam they’ll try and get it away from you.”
Bob handed over the paper and his uncle slipped it into a small leather portfolio which he carried in an inside pocket of his coat.
The taxi swung wildly around another corner and the brakes screeched as a string of red lights barred their way. The street was undergoing repairs.
The driver of their vehicle jammed on his brakes just as the pursuing machine lurched around the corner.
“Keep on going!” cried Bob’s uncle, grabbing the driver by the shoulder and shaking him roughly. “Keep on!”
It was a command the driver dared not disobey, and their car leaped ahead once more, aimed straight at the first of the red lights.
Their headlights revealed a wooden barrier, but there was no stopping now and the taxi crashed into the stringers. Several red lights were bowled over as the barrier went down. Then they were bouncing along over the uneven paving, the wheels dropping into deep ruts.
Bob turned and looked behind them. The pursuing car had stopped at the barrier and he could see men leaping out. It was evident that they intended to pursue the chase, even on foot.
“I’m wrecking this car,” cried the taxi driver in protest as they struck a particularly deep rut.