“They are going to get him tonight.”
“Good God! How do you know?”
“It's a long story, and no time to tell it. Somebody's tipped me off. Where can I meet you? Every minute is precious.”
“Where are you?” I asked, and learned that he was at his home, not far away. I said I would come there, and I hurried to Betty and had another scene with her, and left her weeping, vowing that she would never see me again. I ran out and jumped into my car—and I would hate to tell what I did to the speed laws of Western City. Suffice it to say that a few minutes later I was in Old Joe's den, and he was telling me his story.
CONTENTS
[ Part of it I got then, and part of it later, but I might as well ]