“It shows the license number of the car. Can’t we trace the driver that way?”
“The Motor Vehicle Department is closed now. But I know a fellow who works there. Maybe he’ll do us a favor and go back to the office tonight and look up the information.”
Salt made the telephone call, and after ten minutes of argument, convinced his friend that the requested information was a matter of life and death.
“He’ll do it,” the photographer said, hanging up the receiver. “Soon’s he gets the information, he’ll telephone us here.”
Penny had been studying the photograph again. She now was ready with a second suggestion. “Even if the faces aren’t very clear, let’s compare them with pictures of Danny Deevers in the morgue.”
“Good idea,” agreed Salt.
The newspaper morgue or library where photographs, cuts and newspaper clippings were carefully filed for reference, was just a few steps down the hall. Miss Adams, the librarian, had gone to lunch, so Salt obtained a key and they searched for their own information.
“Here’s an envelope marked Danny Deevers!” Penny cried, pulling it from one of the long filing drawers. “All sorts of pictures of him too!”
Critically, the pair studied the photographs.
The escaped convict was a middle-aged, sullen looking man with hard, expressionless eyes. In one of the pictures, parted lips revealed a set of ugly, uneven teeth.