“I’ve got a feelin’ that he ain’t coming,” the big chief remarked uneasily. “You can depend upon it that he’s heard about this law and is afraid to take a chance.”
“Don’t worry. He’ll come, all right,” declared Gale confidently. “The only thing that could keep him away would be a suspicion that that telegram of ours wasn’t genuine, and I’m pretty sure he won’t suspect that.”
Then suddenly Gale caught sight of Hawley, and poked his companion in the ribs.
“Look! Here he comes now,” he whispered excitedly. “What did I tell you, chief?”
“By Jiminy! It’s him, sure enough,” the head of Oldham’s police force muttered. “I’ve only seen him once—and that time I only got what you might call a fleetin’ glimpse of him—but I’d know the rascal anywhere. I could pick him out of a thousand.”
“Don’t let him see us,” Gale whispered cautiously, pulling his companion farther back into the hallway of the headquarters building. “Compose yourself, chief.”
This last remark was called forth by the fact that Chief Hodgins’ round face had turned scarlet, and his little, beady eyes seemed about to leave their sockets. His fat fingers opened and closed convulsively, and he fairly trembled with the fury which the sight of the Camera Chap aroused within his breast.
“I can hardly keep my hands off him,” he growled.
“Don’t do it, chief,” Gale urged. “Go easy or you’ll spoil the whole game. In a few minutes you’ll have the satisfaction of marching him to jail. That’ll be much better than physical violence. See, he’s heading straight for the city hall; and I’ll bet dollars to doughnuts that that brown paper package in his hand is a camera. He must be a bigger idiot than I thought him if he imagines he can fool us by such a bluff.”
“Come on,” said Hodgins impatiently. “Let’s trail the loafer. I’ve got six of my best men stationed around the city hall, laying in wait for him. I assigned the best detectives on my force to the job, but they may fall down, and I’m not taking any chances. Come on, young feller. We’ll make this pinch ourselves.”