“But there is the invisible footprint.” His mind was off again. He saw the footprint appearing under the eerie purple light, saw it fade, then appear again.
“And the shoe that made that footprint on the Red Rover’s sheet was found close to the door beneath Angelo’s flower shop.
“But that proves nothing.” He said the words aloud to the thundering motors. “Any one can drop a pair of shoes by your door.
“And yet—” He saw again the figures in that room of mystery beneath Angelo’s shop. Who were those men? Why were they there? Why were so many of them wearing black looks? And why had they attempted to throw him out?
“After all,” he told himself, “it all depends upon the last bit of evidence I turned in, the shavings made by Angelo’s pocket knife. If Tom Howe can show that the shavings found near the Red Rover’s car were made by that same knife, then I shall be convinced. And once one is convinced that a supposed friend is a law-breaker there is but one thing he can do: see that he is brought to justice. No enemy of my country can continue to claim me as a friend.”
But what had Tom and Drew found out? This remained to be seen.
Suddenly his attention was caught by Drew Lane. Drew was leaning far over, looking at something. There was a worried look on his face. But at last he settled back in his place.
Again Johnny saw in his mind’s eye the picture of that glassy-eyed one with the scar. Then a thought struck him all of a heap. “Suppose we are going after that man and his pals. Suppose they are all there, the glassy-eyed one, the big man like a baboon and his son, the three all alike, and the others!” A thrill coursed up and down his spine. A not entirely comfortable feeling took possession of him. They were but two, he and Drew. There was a small black bag at Drew’s feet. It was full of blue-black weapons and ammunition. He knew that. “But two—just two of us.”
He dismissed the thought. Drew was game, game to the last drop. But he was no fool.
Once again Johnny closed his eyes. This time it was a different sort of person who walked across the walls of his memory; a tall man with smiling eyes; very tall and very thin; Jimmie Drury, the reporter from the News.