"Picture, hell!" bellowed Cahill. "They got away!"
Humphrey stared around with a bewildered air. "Why," he exclaimed, "when you turned on your lights I thought you had them fast. I decided that was the time to set off my flash light and shoot a picture of you in the very act of capturing your prisoners."
"Bright idea, young fellow," snorted Cahill, "but in one second you killed a whole year's detective work!"
At this moment a wheezing sound was heard in the road. All turned in that direction and saw Green come staggering up, out of breath and almost speechless with his exertions.
"Did—you—get—him?" gasped Green, with an effort.
"Don't see any strangers hanging around, do you?" sneered Cahill.
"Well—the—man—started—for—the tree," declared Green, "and I—followed him." He gave a gulp and partly recovered his breath. "Just as I turned in—from the main road—down here—I heard the rumpus—and I thought you had got the man."
"THE man?" exclaimed Cahill. "What are you talking about?"
"Why—I was keepin' watch at a house—up the road here—for Mr. Forrester. I heard a man arrangin' to come down to the tree—to get the package."
"Well, he split into two by the time he got here," sneered Cahill. "You've been looking through last year's almanac, partner."