The first breath of air
seemed wonderful to her as they passed out into the street. It was
freedom!
* * * * *
The plain-clothes man, who was lounging in Quest's most comfortable
easy-chair and smoking one of his best cigars, suddenly laid down his
paper. He moved to the window. A large, empty automobile stood in the
street outside, from which the occupants had presumably just descended. He
hastened towards the door, which was opened, however, before he was
half-way across the room. The cigar slipped from his fingers. It was
Sanford Quest who stood there, followed by the Sheriff of Bethel, two
country policemen, and Red Gallagher and his mate, heavily handcuffed.
Quest glanced at the cigar.
"Say, do you mind picking that up?" he exclaimed. "That carpet cost me
money."
The plain-clothes man obeyed at once. Then he edged a little towards the
telephone. Quest had opened his cigar cabinet.
"Glad you've left me one or two," he remarked drily.
"Say, aren't you wanted down yonder, Mr. Quest?" the man enquired.
"That's all right now," Quest told him. "I'm ringing up Inspector French
myself. You'd better stand by the other fellows there and keep your eye on
Red Gallagher and his mate."
"I guess Mr. Quest is all right," the Sheriff intervened. "We're ringing
up headquarters ourselves, anyway."
The plain-clothes man did as he was told. Quest took up the receiver from
his telephone instrument and arranged the phototelesme.
Pages:
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159