in the car the next day at all costs. And he would confront this Mr. Carter and tell him what he thought of him. That is, provided the fellow was still around. He quickly divested himself of his vendor's cap, jacket and tray and deposited them in the nearest seat.
Hurrying as fast as the outbound army would allow him down the ramp to the exit gate of the Stadium, Speedy for the first time thought about the taxicab he had abandoned just outside. He wondered whether it was still there. Thank goodness he had had sense enough to lock the car and put the key in his pocket. Though, heavens knows, that didn't faze an experienced auto thief if he really wanted to make a haul. One thing in favor of the car being safe, it was just a dilapidated vehicle that few people would take the trouble to steal.
Reaching the exit, Speedy plunged sideways through the crowd and managed after fifteen minutes or more to make his way to the spot where he had left his taxi. To his joy it was still there. A stockily built man was walking around it inspecting it, but the car was intact. That was the important thing. Speedy leaped up into the seat and turned the key in the lock. He resolved to take no passengers but to hasten empty downtown to the Dillons'.
"Who's that? Swift?" came a sharp voice at his side.
Speedy looked around, to be confronted by the angry face of his boss, Jerry Moore.
"What do you mean, leaving this cab here and
