"Certainly."
"Under the sidewalk?"
"No; in the pocket of my Dutch pard."
Brady stared incredulously. Then he swore.
"That Dutchman was out in front all the while you were in the house?"
Matt nodded.
"He came with me from Chicago. I got to thinking there might be a trap in the house, and that some one was there who wanted the blue prints, so I made up my mind that it would be a wise move to leave Carl out in front, and to let him keep the roll."
"That chum of yours must have seen the Hawk when she climbed out of the back yard," growled Brady, "but how in the fiend's name was he able to get Jerrold and the Eagle and follow us? It was dark, and we had a long start of them."
"One guess is as good as another," said Matt, calmly. "I told you you'd get yourself into trouble if you tried to make a prisoner of me. The best thing you can do now is to send me back to South Chicago in the air-ship."
"Think I'm a fool?" snarled Brady. "It may be that you're all that stands between me and my men and capture. I'll hang onto you, King, and I'll let that Dutch pard of yours know that if Jerrold don't keep away from this swamp with his air-ship you're going to connect with your finish. It's neck or nothing with me, now, and I'll go any length to keep myself out of the 'pen.' I've laid out a fine campaign for the Hawk, and I don't intend to have all my plans nipped in the bud, right at the start-off."