sedan of costly make and anchored at the curb twenty feet from the hydrant where his chief waited. Speedy's luck was still with him. The stop had been made almost directly opposite the alley. Puggy walked quickly down to Joe and greeted him. Speedy, using the passing crowds as a shield, streaked out of his hiding place, across the sidewalk and to the rear of Joe's car. There he pretended to passers-by and the policeman directing traffic in the middle of the street that he was only awaiting a break in the solid line of cars passing in front of him in order to cross over to the other side.
But if Speedy imagined he was going to overhear the ensuing dialogue between Puggy and Joe and thus find out something about the mysteriously missing car, he was doomed to disappointment. For Puggy, with scarcely a word, leaped into the sedan beside Joe and, with a snort and inexpert shifting of gears, they were off down Powers Street with such speed that the policeman at the intersection yelled at them, though he did not blow his whistle to stop them. Speedy was left standing there, baffled.
He almost groaned. All his sleuthing work had apparently been done for nothing. He stood uncertainly for a moment, wondering what his next move was to be. It was futile to think of hailing a taxi and attempting to follow the flying sedan. It was already many blocks away.
He was about to start back in the direction of De Lacey Street when a yellow taxicab, coming in a wild rush, almost ran over him. He leaped back
