"Where to?" Marc asked hopelessly. "We're jammed in here tight. Bumper to bumper and fender to fender, so to speak."
"Sounds lecherous," Toffee murmured. "Come on."
Marc was willing to be led, it appeared, even when he didn't know where he was being led to. He didn't object even when Toffee blithely opened the rear door of the next car, nodded cheerfully to its startled owner, and bounded through to the other side. In fact, he heartily endorsed the idea by rapidly following suit.
And Marc was not the only one to realize the wisdom in Toffee's methods. Soon, not only the pursued, but the pursuers as well, were romping in and out of strange vehicles with a reckless abandon that indicated a decided taste for the sport. The sound of wailing horns slowly died to be replaced by excited screams and dark curses. Toffee, easily the most fleet of foot, took a fast lead, Marc bringing up a close second. The skittering money bags, an early entry in this car-hopping sweepstakes, followed hot on the trail, flitting felicitously past the noses of astonished motorists like a pair of featureless rag dolls suddenly come to life. The two policemen, definitely dark horses without a prayer, brought up a couple of blue serge rears that lent a certain full-bodied homeliness to the affair. The reactions of the jammed-in motorists were varied and extreme.
One dapper little gentleman, the proprietor of a low black sedan, watched with bemusement as Toffee leaped lightly into his presence and made for the next car with business-like directness. But when Marc lunged after the lithesome redhead, the little fellow began to take an active interest in the proceedings, which, as he saw them, were becoming rather sordid. He held an arresting hand up to Marc.
"Why don't you let her go, mister?" he asked reprovingly. "You're running the poor kid nearly ragged. Maybe she just doesn't like you."
Marc brushed the hand impatiently aside and continued on his way.
The little man squared his shoulders manfully, slid across the seat and hopped quickly out the door.
"Maybe it isn't any of my business," he muttered, jumping to the running board of the next car, "but somebody's got to be there to protect that poor child when he catches her!"