“Thunder and lightning!” burst out from Chick. “How did Patsy get him? Say, chief, he’s beaten both of us!”
“All the better!” responded Nick. “I don’t care who gets Potter so long as we have him at last.”
“What are we to do now?”
“Trust to Patsy,” was the chief’s reply. “What else can we do?”
Chick nodded. As the chief had said, what else could they do?
“We couldn’t jump off this boat, Chick. And if we did, it would not help us at all. Patsy is sure to have some plan in his mind. It isn’t likely Potter knows who is in the boat with him, and I think we can depend on the shrewdness of Patsy.”
“I believe that, too,” mumbled Chick. “But I envy him his luck. I wish I were in that boat, instead of him.”
“Don’t be jealous,” laughed the detective. “You should be above that. Patsy deserves all he has, for he must have exercised judgment to have brought about what we see—the fellow we want so badly. T. Burton Potter, sitting there and rowing himself straight into the arms of the police.”
“I hope that will happen,” responded Chick. “The boat is out of sight now, for we are in the slip. We may as well get into our taxi. But I certainly have had beastly luck this night.”
“You’ve had plenty of experience, at least, Chick,” laughed his employer.