Ten minutes later Tom was off on one of the most pleasurable trips of his life; shortly before he had hardly dared to hope that Jack had escaped from the flames alive. He promised to return in the morning. As Dr. Tallman said good-by he added:
“By the way, I think I shall have something remarkable to tell you ere long about this young Ingersoll. He is not by any means just what you think he is.”
With which puzzling words Tom had to be content, for the good doctor refused to say more.
“What a wonderful day this has been,” mused Tom, as he spun along the road, his searchlight brightly illumining the road ahead of him. So intent was he on his pleasant thoughts that he was quite startled when suddenly, into the circle of light ahead, there stepped a human figure. Tom turned out quickly to avoid running over him. But as he did so he heard himself hailed in a sharp voice.
“Hey, mister!”
“Well, what is it?” demanded Tom.
“Give me and my pard a ride inter Boston?” Now, at any other time Tom would have refused such a request, for just at that date holdups of automobilists were frequent. But at the moment, he felt so joyous and at peace with all the world, that he stopped the car and told the men to get in.
As the car came to a standstill two dark figures stepped into it out of the black night.
“Get back in the tonneau,” ordered Tom, “and hold on tight, we’re going to make a fast run.”
“But not the kind of run you expect, Tom Jesson,” came in startling contrast to the whining, tramp-like tones in which he had been hailed from the roadside. “Turn this car around and drive where we tell you.”