“Anything can be accomplished if we set our hearts on the task,” returned Chief Lonsdale, somewhat testily.
“There have been six others of this make of machine sold right here,” the Colonel said, “but the one we are looking for had several unusual fittings to mark it. There’s a difference in the wheels of Mary Louise’s car—couldn’t you tell by that; also the driver’s seat is different.”
“I don’t remember having noticed these particular marks myself,” said the Chief, “but a dozen or so of my men have done so, and at this present moment are busy trying to locate Mary Louise’s car.”
“You’re a good fellow, Charlie,” remarked the Colonel gratefully. “I feel sure we’ll get our clutches on the machine sooner or later, even if the streets are crowded with automobiles of this and all other makes.”
“You’re skeptical, of course,” replied the Chief, “regarding the power of the police, but I’m not at all, so I’ll plod along and make the best of a poor beginning. So please have faith in our ability and we’ll find your car.”
“Oh, I’m not afraid of your ability,” said Gran’pa Jim.
“Let’s run down to the office,” proposed the Chief. “We’ll get the news as quickly there as here—perhaps a bit quicker, and I can see you’re too nervous—both of you—to get to sleep at your usual hour.” So they got into the Chief’s auto and started for the police office, where the man at the desk listened quietly but without astonishment to the Chief’s story, referring to a sheet of notes at his side, “Guess I got it all, sir,” he said.
“Is Olmstead out?” asked the Chief.
“Not just now, sir, he’s just back from the telegraph office, where he listened to this message to Mary Louise coming over the wire.”
“Let us see it.” Without a word the desk sergeant handed over a paper with some words scrawled upon it, but neither old Mr. Hathaway nor the Chief of Police had any difficulty in reading it: