"Not much danger," he said. "The guy's probably making a quick getaway."
"Hell!" the manacled man exclaimed, "the boss'll skin us alive."
"The boss be damned!" exclaimed the other. "This guy'll have the bulls on us if we don't get him, and the boss won't be ready for the getaway until Thursday."
"We've got to get him!" declared the manacled man. "He can't run all the way to Chicago. I figure he made for either the electric line or the railroad station. You beat it up there quick and see if you can get him."
"All right," agreed the driver. "And you run down the road."
"Where do you get that stuff?" exclaimed the other, holding up his manacled hands. "I'm no good with these bracelets on. It's all up to you now. You're wasting time. Beat it!"
The driver started up the road at a run and Marsh listened to the rapid beat of his footfalls until they disappeared in the distance. Then he cautiously crept out of the bushes and approached the other man. It was so dark that Marsh could barely make out the man's form as it was outlined against the gray of one of the gateposts. Consequently, the man did not discover him until Marsh's hand was on his arm.
"That you, Wagner?" he gasped.
Marsh laughed. "Don't make me talk," he said. "I'm all out of breath making that getaway your friend spoke of."
"Hell!" the other man groaned, expressively.