"Will you come along with us, Harris?"
Harris shook his head.
"It wouldn't do for me to butt in on a bit of work that Glennie's pulling off—it would look too much as though I was trying to 'hog' some of the honor. Glennie would resent it, and he'd be perfectly right in doing so. He has laid his plans and the thing for you to do is to help carry them out."
"But you know the country better than any the rest of us. We'll be able to find the quarry, all right, when we get over it, but it may bother us some to find La Grange. You see, we'll have to work at night, and——"
"That will be easy, Matt," interrupted Harris, "if you find the canal and then follow it until you get to the quarry. I'll show you how to reach the canal, and after that you will have plain sailing."
The officer gave the instructions. After he was through, the finding of the quarry seemed a simple enough matter.
It was eight o'clock in the evening before the boys got the Hawk out of the shed for the start. Harris had stayed with them up to that time. He watched while the young motorist and his chums got into the car and glided upward to a humming accompaniment of the motor's cylinders.
"Good-by and good luck!" yelled Harris, in answer to the parting hail that came to him from the dusky blot overhead.
Harris, after he had returned to headquarters to report, called up the Chicago police department. It was merely by an afterthought and not because he anticipated finding anything wrong.
"This is Harris, of South Chicago, talking," said he, as soon as his call was answered. "Where's Dave Glennie?"