A short time later Merritt, Tubby and the Digbys being left behind on the landing, a high powered car, containing Rob, his father, Commodore Wingate and the chief of police of Hampton shot out on to the road leading to the farm owned by Jack Curtiss’ father.  Inquiry at the Bender home had already developed the fact that Jack and Bill had left there hurriedly a short time before, saying they were going out to the Curtiss place.  The party was doomed to disappointment, however, so far as the hope of catching Jack or his accomplices at the farm was concerned.  Old Mr. Curtiss informed them that his son had taken the family buggy and driven furiously off down the road with Bill Bender a short time before.

“He got a hundred dollars from me,” explained the old man simply, “he told me he was goin’ ter invest it in some rich mining stock his friend Bender had promoted but—­what’s the matter, gentlemen,” he broke off, noticing the half-pitying look on the faces of the men in the automobile.  Mr. Blake hurriedly explained the attempted extortion of which Jack had been guilty.

“What, Jack—­my son!” exclaimed the old man in half daze at the stunning intelligence, “my boy Jack do a thing like that?  Why, it can’t be true.  I don’t believe it.”

“I’m afraid, nevertheless, it is,” rejoined Mr. Blake, but the old man only shook his head.

“I’ll not believe it,” he kept repeating.

“I wish that so good a father had a worthy son,” remarked Mr. Blake as the car shot out of the farm and out upon the highroad in the hope of overtaking the buggy.

At the Digby farm the machine was turned off to take the cross roads and at this spot they encountered a buggy coming toward them driven by a farmer friend of Mr. Blake’s.

“Seen a rig with Jack Curtiss and Bill Bender in it?” shouted the banker as the car was slowed up by Commodore Wingate.

“Down the road a piece driving like the Mischief,” responded the rustic pointing back with his whip, “but you’re wrong ‘bout ther’ bein’ only two of them; that no-good beach-comber, Hank Handcraft, was in there with them.”

With a shouted word of thanks the car dashed forward once more.  It was evident that, realizing that their game was up, Jack and Bill had picked up Hank, and, with a sense of loyalty for which Rob certainly would not have given them credit, were trying to save him too.

“Where can they be headed for?” wondered Mr. Blake as the car dashed forward.

“I can hazard a guess,” exclaimed Commodore Wingate, “for the Sunnyside railroad station.  If they make a train they may escape us yet.”

“Je-rus-a-lem,” exclaimed the chief of police, a man named Applegate, pulling out a huge old-fashioned silver watch, “there’s a train due in a few minutes now; if we don’t make it, they’ll slip through our fingers!”

Faster and faster the car roared forward and suddenly as it shot round a curve the little station of Sunnyside came in sight.  Tied outside it was the buggy and horse of farmer Curtiss and on the platform stood three figures that the party in the auto made out at once as Jack Curtiss, Bill Bender and their unsavory ally.