“Sure.”
“Some cracksmen burst the safe in the third one from the water, ten minutes after the radio station was smashed.”
“That looks like a hot scent,” said Drew, starting forward to bend over McCarthey’s sheet.
“Rather blind one, at that,” said the sergeant. “No one saw them. A straggler heard the blast and turned in the alarm. Squad came. Safe was looted. Birds flown. Might have gone a dozen ways, rowboat, on foot, in a car. Gone, that’s all. Got something over a thousand dollars. Left nothing, not even a fingerprint.”
“It’s too bad,” sighed Drew. “I’d say that was the likely case. Going to blow up a safe. Mighty few cases these days. Since the radio gave us a lift, electric drills are cheap. Radio’s too quick for them. Whang! goes the blast; r-ring-ring! the telephone; gong-gong! the radio; and the police squad is on the way; all too soon for the safe-cracker.
“Easy enough to see why they’d send an accomplice over to break up the radio!”
“Ah, well!” McCarthey’s narrow eyes contracted. “Give us time. Not so many of ’em escape us.
“The other case that came off in that fateful quarter of an hour was a theatre holdup on State Street, just over the river; one of those quiet little affairs. Two men say, ‘Stick ’em up! Give us the swag. Don’t yell! Don’t move for a full minute, or you’ll be dead!’ A car. Quick getaway. And there you are!
“No clue. Nothing to go by. One of those things that are mighty hard to trace.”
“And you don’t think they could have had a friend—” began Johnny.