"I must ask you two lads to come with me to the station-as a mere matter of form," said the police-sergeant, addressing Brandon and Craddock.
"I'll come with you," added Mr. Grant. "You others turn in as soon as you can."
* * * *
Surrounded by his captors, the prisoner was escorted along the almost deserted High Street, Mr. Grant and the two Sea Scouts following at a distance. A few fishermen and market porters formed the sightseeing part of the procession.
About a couple of hundred yards up the street was a closed-in motor with the headlights switched on, and the engine softly "ticking over."
Suddenly the prisoner gave a shrill whistle.
The car bounded forward, turned abruptly and fled to the accompaniment of loud blasts on the policeman's whistle.
Then the car disappeared round a corner. A second or two later came the sound of an appalling crash.
"Smash!" exclaimed Mr. Grant. "Run, you fellows."
The Scoutmaster and the two Sea Scouts broke into a run. As they turned the corner they saw that the car had crashed end-on into a stationary lorry and was already well ablaze.