“Air!” he panted.
As he reached the doorway, he uttered an ejaculation of relief—and found himself in the grip of a pair of powerful arms. He had been seized by one of the policemen.
“All right, Bob!” shouted the officer, giving Chick a shake as involuntarily he attempted to pull away. “I have one of them!”
“Let go, you dub!” gasped Chick. “Don’t you know who I am?”
“Sure I do. But I don’t want the story of your life. Tell that to the captain when I get you to the station.”
He felt a row of knuckles grinding into the back of his neck. Under ordinary conditions, when he was himself, Chick could have made some sort of fight. Probably he would have done so, even though he knew it was useless to oppose a good policeman in the performance of his duty.
As it was, however, being sick and faint, and having hardly any strength, he suddenly collapsed, like an empty sack, in the hands of the blue-coated captor.