The Jap was ordered into the front seat of the machine, and beside him was seated a second detective.
It was a tired group of men who raced over the long desert road to Albuquerque on the return journey. The early morning sun was beating down from the east, and the intense heat of the desert was making itself felt over the refreshing coolness of the night.
Mr. Southwick’s car led off, and was followed by Brown’s machine, which was carefully watched by the occupants of “Queenie,” the next one in line. One of Mr. Southwick’s lieutenants brought up the rear of the procession.
Early morning pedestrians on the streets of the thriving little town glanced curiously at the row of machines, and wondered at their presence at that hour. They would have been still more surprised had they seen the four machines draw up a few minutes later in front of the county jail. Luckily, the street on which this stood was still deserted.
After the captives were safely lodged behind bars, the raiding party separated in all directions. Mr. Southwick walked over to Danny and O’Hara, and slapping them on the back, said:
“We are greatly indebted to you two men. As one loyal American to another, I want to thank the both of you from the bottom of my heart. You have done your country a great service—greater, perhaps, than you know. Good luck to you, and I hope I may call on you later when we bring Brown and his assistants to trial.”
“You surely can, Mr. Southwick!” answered Danny.
As O’Hara shook hands with the famous official, the letter said, kindly:
“There may come a time when I can be of some help to you, Mr. O’Hara. If so, do not hesitate to call on me. You have my promise.”
“Many thanks!” answered the other.