Jack Weeden was not among the men who were following the detectives. Had he anything to do with them? They probably were his accomplices. Their following of the detectives boded no good to the men who were trying to solve “Mystery 47.”
Great masses of dark clouds obscured the stars; fierce gusts of wind howled dismally through the branches of the trees at the roadside; peals of thunder broke the stillness of the night; vivid flashes of lightning illumined the sky for an instant and made the roadway as light as day.
“I’m afraid this may upset our plans,” said Nick, as he looked out of the taxi window.
That instant a gust of wind blew his hat into the road. It fell into a pool of water. With an exclamation Nick shouted to the chauffeur to stop.
The man obeyed, and Nick sprang to the ground. As he did so, he saw the taxi that was following.
When the motor car stopped the taxi stopped also. Nick gave a glance at the chauffeur and saw that there was a diabolical grin on his face as he sat on the box looking down at him.
“That chauffeur,” Nick muttered to himself, “is Phil Meloy.”
The chauffeur of the motor car seemed to have grown nervous. He glanced back at the taxi, and, with a muttered oath, was about to drive on when Nick stopped him.
“What’s the matter?” asked the inspector, as he put his head out of the window.
“We are being followed,” replied Nick.