“Are you in need of help, Chief?” he asked quietly.
“All the good men we can get,” said the Chief curtly. “But first we must get the Mayor here. Sergeant, get him on the phone.”
“You go for him, Vic,” said Jack.
“Righto!” cried Vic. “But count me in on this.”
In fifteen minutes Vic was back with the Mayor, helpless with nervous excitement.
“Get your men out, Chief!” he shouted, as he sprang from the car. “Get them out quick, arrest those devils and lock 'em up! We'll show them a thing or two! Hurry up! What are you waiting for?”
“Mr. Mayor,” Jack's clear, firm, cool voice arrested the Mayor's attention. “May I suggest that you swear in some special constables? The Chief will need help and some of us here would be glad to assist.”
“Yes! Yes! For God's sake, hurry up! Here's the clerk. How do you swear them in, clerk?”
“The Chief of Police has all the necessary authority.”
“All right, Chief. Swear them! Swear them! For heaven's sake, swear them! Here, you, Maitland—and you, Maynard—and Stillwell—”