“Sure thing. I’ll telephone you the name and address of the garage where I leave it, so that if there is any inquiry for it you may direct inquirers there. But I’ve got a hunch that this car was thrown away, having served its purpose.”
“Great Scott! that’s a valuable thing to throw away.”
“Yes, but the man who abandoned it probably thought it a good sacrifice.”
“How is that?”
“What do you suppose was in that bag he carried?”
“Couldn’t say, but it was pretty heavy.”
“It would hold a good deal of paper money, wouldn’t it?”
“If the bills were of big enough denomination, I should say you could pack away a million in it, for it was a powerful big sack.”
“Well, suppose the man whom you saw jump out of the car and get aboard the train had stolen the car, or even if he had owned it, and had made a big haul, and it was contingent upon his getting away with the money that he abandon the car.”
“That’s possible. But there has been no big robbery to cover that part of the theory.”
“You don’t know. There may have been a big robbery, and it has not been made public. Not all robberies are reported to the public. If they were, there would be slim chance for the authorities to catch the thieves.”
“Perhaps so. Say, Mr. Strong, you’re a deputy United States marshal, ain’t you?”
“Yes. Both Mr. Morgan and I are in the government service.”
“I’ve been thinking over what you said about a possible robbery, and perhaps you’ve got it right. I believe you’d better take that car along. You might need it as evidence some day.”
“That occurred to me.”
“Can you run the pesky thing.”
“Yes; I learned to run a motor car long ago. It is, like everything else a fellow can know, mighty useful to me in my business.”
“All right, take her along.”
The man in the checked suit was nowhere in sight, but as Ted started up the abandoned motor car he came running out of a doorway.
“Hi, there! Come back with that car!” he yelled, running after them in the middle of the road. But Ted let her out a couple of links, and in a moment the man in checks was out of sight.
The lodging-house battle.
“What aire ye goin’ ter do with ther blamed thing, now yer got it?” asked Bud, as they sped across the Eads Bridge into St. Louis.
“I haven’t made up my mind yet. It certainly doesn’t belong in this town, and if we use it here we will have to get a local license.”
“Jumpin’ sand hills, yer not goin’ ter run it yere?”
“Whoever owns it is li’ble ter come erlong some day, an—”
“Then I’ll give it to him, if he can prove it is his, but I don’t think it will ever be claimed.”