“And while you fellows are gone,” began Mr. Holton, “we’ll find some way to get Jordan in here to have him detain the thief as long as possible. But you be careful. There may be someone else in the car.”
As silently as they could, Bob and Joe made their way out of the room and in a roundabout manner found the front door. One glance across the spacious lawn told them that a roadster was parked at the curb. A more careful look convinced them that no one was in the car.
“Now’s our chance,” said Joe, leading the way out to the street. “Of course, this automobile might belong to someone else, but the chances are that it is owned—or at least run—by the man in the house.”
With a cautious look over their shoulders, the chums walked up to the parked car.
CHAPTER VIII
After the Specimens
“THERE should be a certificate of title somewhere,” said Joe Lewis, as he peered inside the parked automobile. “Or if there isn’t, maybe there’s a letter or something else that has his name and address on it.”
“Here’s a driver’s license,” announced Bob, who had reached into the pocket of the door. “Issued to Harry Walker, and the address is rural route. Let’s see the description. Height, five feet-eight; weight, one hundred-forty; eyes, brown; hair, black; age, fifty-one.”
“That’s the thief, all right,” said Joe conclusively. “It fits him to a T.”