Devlin’s voice was icy. Skippy had to think quickly and, consequently, there was a sharp contact, the lady’s pocketbook fell to the ground and its contents fell out on the walk.
Skippy was nothing if not gallant. He was on his knees, picking up the scattered articles and cramming them back despite her sweet-voiced protests. But he had to do it quickly, expertly, for Devlin had a challenging look in his cold eyes.
Then he ran to the car and Nickie gave him an anxious look. “Sorry I hadda keep you waitin’, mister,” he said naïvely, “but that lady was old an’ she couldn’t stoop so well so I ...”
“Come on, get in!” was Devlin’s response.
Skippy looked back and saw that the old lady stood holding her pocketbook tightly, watching them as they drove away. Then she went up the walk to the doctor’s house.
After they had gone a few feet, Devlin backed the car around and went back the way they had come. As they drove down the brightly lighted street of the little community, they came abreast of a car which as Skippy had already noticed bore a New York license plate. Even while he looked, a face at one of the opened windows drew his attention, a brisk face so pleasantly familiar.
Dick Hallam!
He tried to stifle his cry of surprise, but Devlin had not missed it. “You know the man in that car?” He had already stepped on the gas and they were plunging forward with terrific speed. “You know him?” he asked, insistently, threateningly.
“Y—yes.”
Skippy saw the headlights looming up from the rear. Dick Hallam was giving chase. He had seen him! Devlin, on the other hand, was not dismayed. He was using all the speed of which the car was capable and had turned off all except his parking lights. Suddenly he swerved into a narrow road and after that they made so many turns that Skippy lost all sense of direction.