Part 30 (2/2)

”What time is it, anyway?” breathed Joe.

That youth had awakened at last. He and Tom were discussing in whispers what it was best to do. While they were still deliberating, a sc.r.a.ping as though of a knife in a pipe-bowl, not a hundred yards away, had told them that watchers were still about. That had brought out Joe's question.

”I don't know. I'm going to see if I can make a guess,” hazarded Halstead.

He crawled forward, thrusting his head a little beyond the mouth of the hole, though still concealed by the thicket.

He tried to get at the position of the sun in the sky, but at first the limited view he could obtain was bewildering. At last, however, Halstead guessed at the position of the sun with a result that made him feel heartsick.

”Joe,” he faltered, after wriggling back into the hole, ”I'm sure it must be afternoon. At that rate, we're in our last minutes of chance. If we reach Nantucket later than four o'clock we might about as well not get there at all.”

”I'm with you for the dash, then,” breathed Joe, hard. ”I don't doubt though, that the Alvarez crowd will go to any extreme, even shooting, if they get sight of us. They're just as desperate as we feel. However, when you're ready to lead the dash, pa.s.s the word, and I'll hand Ted Dunstan out.”

An impatient snort came from that helpless young man.

”Now, see here,” whispered Joe, warningly, as he gripped tightly at the heir's arm, ”just leave any sign of noise out. If you don't-well, you'll find me bad-tempered when I get roused.”

Tom once more stuck his head out into the thicket. He had no doubt that it was already afternoon. Yes, surely, all must be risked on the one last dash to win.

As he looked about him, and listened, he heard a new sound. It made his heart beat fast. The sound was such as would come from the slow-running gear of an automobile.

”Hear it, Joe?” he whispered, drawing his head in.

”Yes!”

”Stay here. Don't venture out, unless I call you, Joe. But I'm going to try to get out and stop that machine. The Alvarez crew wouldn't, or oughtn't, dare do anything too ugly with other folks at hand. I'm going to risk it, anyway.”

An instant later Tom Halstead's body was half-way out of the hole, though still concealed by the friendly thicket. He waited until he judged that the approaching automobile was close at hand on the nearby road.

Just as he was about to spring forth Halstead realized that even the auto might be a part of the Alvarez equipment. Yet, on the one last breath of a chance nothing was to be wasted by hesitation.

Judging the sound intently, Captain Tom suddenly leaped forth from the hole, out of the thicket, and sprinted headlong for the road. Nor had he misjudged his time. A touring car was coming along, less than fifty feet away, as Halstead reached the low stone wall. There were, including the man at the steering wheel, four men in the car.

”Stop! stop!” shouted Tom, waving his cap. ”It's fearfully important!”

As the car rolled to a stop, and the men in it leaned forward, Captain Tom experienced another great throb. One of the men in the rear seat he recognized as an officer who had joined in the search on the first day of Ted's disappearance.

”Oh, Mr. Warren, get out here, quick!” appealed the young skipper.

”There's real and swift work in your line as deputy sheriff!”

Halstead's excited manner and white face were enough, in themselves, to carry conviction. Warren and another man leaped from the tonneau, each reaching carelessly at a hip pocket as though to make sure that a weapon was securely there.

”Yes, yes!” cried, the delighted young motor boat skipper. ”Get your pistols out. You may need 'em.”

Then, wheeling, Tom shouted back:

<script>