Jo Ann went on to describe as accurately as possible the location of the gully in which she and Florence had found the car.
“Do you happen to know the license number of their car?”
“Yes.” As she gave the number, he jotted it down in a notebook.
“Anything else about the car to distinguish it?”
Jo Ann went on to tell of the battered places in the radiator.
“And now give me a detailed description of the men.”
Racking her brain for every item that would be helpful, she described their appearance and clothes, from the braided leather strips about their sombreros to a peculiar squint in the left eye of the taller man.
“Good. You’re a close observer, I wish you could find out exactly when they’ll leave San Geronimo next week. If you could, I could wire my men across the border. Maybe together we might round up the ringleaders. If I don’t get them soon, they’ll——”
He halted abruptly, but Jo Ann knew instinctively that he had been going to add “get me.” That was what he had said over the telephone in the hotel. She must—must get him that information if possible.
“I don’t want to mix you girls up in this affair, and if you can’t get the information without endangering yourselves, don’t do it.”