“I’d like to get all the facts on this story,” he said to Inspector Prentiss.
“Sorry,” smiled the inspector, “but since the News’ men played such an important part I’m afraid that the story will have to be exclusive with them.”
“Then you haven’t anything to say?”
“Not a word.”
It was obvious from the set of the inspector’s chin that no amount of argument or cajolery would change his mind. Mogridge shrugged and walked away.
“Thanks, Inspector,” said Tim.
“It was the least I could do,” replied the federal agent. “Without your assistance McDowell would undoubtedly have succeeded in his dash for the border.”
Ralph took a cab for home while Tim superintended the return of the Jupiter to its hangar. Then, with the inspector and Tommy Larkin, he climbed into the News’ car he had used that morning and started uptown.
“This is a long ways from the McDowell case,” said Tim, “but I’ve got a pet mystery all my own.” Briefly he told the inspector about “Mr. Seven.”
“I’ll be glad to have a look at him in the morning,” said Inspector Prentiss. “I’ve a faculty for remembering names and faces. Perhaps I can help you out.”