Salt nodded. “A fellow that must have been Danny rented a room last night, but he pulled out early this morning.”
“Why, the telegram didn’t come until a few minutes ago!”
“Danny took care of that by having the janitor send it for him. He evidently escaped from the pen late yesterday, but authorities didn’t give out the story until today.”
Disappointed over their failure, Penny and Salt drove on toward the theater in glum silence.
Suddenly at the intersection of Jefferson and Huron Streets, a long black sedan driven by a woman, failed to observe a stop sign. Barging into a line of traffic, it spun unsteadily on two wheels and crashed into an ancient car in which two men were riding.
“Just another dumb woman driver,” observed Salt. He brought up at the curb and reached for his camera.
“Nobody’s hurt so it’s hardly worth a picture. But if I don’t grab it, DeWitt’ll be asking me why I didn’t.”
Balancing the camera on the sill of the open car window, he snapped the shutter just as the two men climbed out of their ancient vehicle.
“Looks as if they’re going to put up a big squawk,” Salt observed with interest. “What they beefin’ about? That old wreck isn’t worth anything, and anyhow, the lady only bashed in a couple of fenders.”
The driver of the black sedan took a quick glance at the two men and said hastily: