With the coming of evening, a powdery fog swooped down over the ridges to the west, and suddenly the tail lights of the limousine shot up in the gloom ahead. Notch by notch, the Chinese chauffeur was adding to his speed. The lighter car behind bounced and swayed, and Mike spat through his teeth.
“Say, that bird must be clear nuts!” he growled. “If we get took in, they’ll sentence us to about five life-times! What say, gents? Want to let him go?”
“You keep going!” snarled Monte, staring hardeyed into the fog. “If we get pinched, I pay for it, see? But don’t you let that bird get away, if you want to sleep in your little bed tonight!”
Mike glanced sideways at the man whose elbow touched his. Something he saw in the stony face of Monte Jerome caused him to turn all his attention to the task in hand.
The tail lights had been growing dim, but now, slowly, the cab began to gain. Other cars, headed for the ferry, shot out of the fog and into it, honking warning horns at the crazily lurching machine that burned the road in pursuit of the blue limousine. The stony faces of the three men in the cab never deviated from their straight glare into the gloom ahead.
The speed of the big car was slackening. The driver of the cab grinned wryly.
“He knows the ropes. Speed cop in this burg ahead lies awake nights thinking up new ways of raising hell for speedy drivers,” he explained. “Now we’ll creep up on ’em a little more!”
They passed through the little town and again were in the open country. The limousine continued its more leisurely progress, however, and presently turned to the right into a dirt road. The cab dropped farther behind, at Monte’s command.
“They can’t get away from us on this road. Probably aren’t going far, and we don’t want them to spot us. Take it easy!”
The road seemed to be leading gently down, and presently they caught the gleam of water on each side. Rushes grew up close to the track; and from somewhere in the dusk the cry of a gull sounded like the wailing of a lost soul.