She thought of the priceless Bible tucked away at the bottom of the little horsehair trunk. Is it strange that a half-formed hope should enter her mind, the hope that no one would appear to claim that treasure, and that she might have it for her very own?
“A fortune! Thousands of dollars!” she whispered. “And yet—”
* * * * * * * *
When Tom Howe mounted to the seat of that lumbering van he took one look through a narrow slit of a window behind the driver. The inside of the van at that time was completely dark.
After riding with the driver for fully two miles and directing his course all this time, Tom cast another sidewise look through that window. His lips parted in an unuttered exclamation. The back of the van was now open, the gate was down, and back two blocks, just turning the corner, was a low, yellow sedan.
His face was a mask as he turned his attention once more to the street that lay ahead. Two blocks before them a red crossing light gleamed. As the van paused for this light, he sprang from the seat and was away like a shot.
“Well! What became of you?” the Captain roared as a half hour later he entered the shack.
“You lost their trail?” Tom grinned.
“I’ll say we did!”
“So did I,” Tom said quietly. “In the end I did. But I stayed with them longer than you did.”