The nimble brain of Officer Cates began to click. Something was up or Margolo wouldn’t call for his car in such a hurry. Cates moved to the magazine stand as Margolo emerged from the booth and hurried out of the store.
Suddenly a plan occurred to Cates. It was daring in conception, but the more he thought of it the more plausible it seemed. Anyway, he’d take a chance. Quickly he went into the street, and strode along in the direction from which Margolo’s car must come.
There was a sharp corner there by the fruit store. Necessarily the car must come around that corner. Cates cautiously drew back into a doorway and waited.
Presently headlights gleamed. The big car slowed for the corner. Cates caught a glimpse of the driver. Yes, the chauffeur was the youth to whom Cates had lent ten dollars.
The car was the green limousine that had nearly taken Cates on his death ride. This evidence made it pretty definite to Cates that Margolo was the man who had ordered his death.
Dave Cates slid out of the shadow. In a bound he was on the running board, had yanked open the door, and was pressing his gun into the side of the startled driver.
“Drive to the Warren Avenue station,” he ordered.
“What the hell!” exclaimed the youth. “Say, ain’t you⸺”
“I am,” Cates nodded, “but we won’t talk about that now. Drive to the station, kid, and make it fast.”
At the Warren Avenue station Cates turned the youth over to the desk sergeant.