Back in New York all the papers save the Leader were printing columns about the flight of the clerk, and speculating as to when he would be arrested. In fact, he was “arrested” time and time again, only it proved to be the wrong man. But the young reporter bothered himself not at all about this. He knew he was after his man, and would get him soon unless——
“There’s always the possibility of an accident,” mused Larry.
Occasionally he wired briefly to Mr. Emberg, but there was no story to print yet, and Larry was holding back for his big beat. The other papers wondered at the strange policy of the Leader. All Mr. Emberg used of the bank mystery was an occasional note, when some false arrest was made.
“Larry has something up his sleeve,” declared Peter Manton to some other reporters. “He’ll beat us yet.”
“Nonsense!” exclaimed a veteran correspondent. “We’ll beat the Leader!”
But Peter shook his head dubiously.
Meanwhile Larry was hot on the trail. That afternoon on stopping to replenish his supply of gasoline he learned with delight that Norton had done the same thing not half an hour before.
“Here’s the end of the chase!” exulted Larry, and, jumping into his car he shot ahead, totally disregarding the speed laws.
“And I’m glad for the sake of Grace Potter that it’s some one else besides her relative whom I’m after,” he murmured.
Five miles farther on, coasting down a hill on a lonely stretch of road, not far from the Canadian line, Larry saw a big car ahead of him. Steering with one hand, Larry focused a pair of opera-glasses on the dangling back number of the machine in front.