Evening star., 1921-09-22
fBY FRANK L. PACKARD.
:, Copyright, 1884,. BY Public Isdssf CO.
Copyright, lSe1, BY =. 4. Davis cssp.

his car. He threw himself into the
drivers seat. Pandemonium seemed
loosed now from the house. up aoove;
q second-story window was raised
violently, and Toiers neaa sao- was vas f,nnS
wide open, and, the red-headed little
tout in the van, four men were racing
down the steps. And then, over the
chorus Of unbridled blasphemy. there
rose a shrill yell from Runty Mott.
which was answered from somewhere
down the street.
The car, like a mad thing stung
into action. shot forward from tne
curb. A hand grasped at the cars
spinning like a top and pitching to
the sidewalk. Dave Henderson n1ng
a glance over his shou1der-and his
jaws clamped suddenly hard together.
OF course! That shout OF Run5y
mated either Baldy Vickers' cunning.
or Baldy Viclkers' resourcefulness. He
had rather expected it. A big, power
full gray car had swept around the
corner of the first street behind MN.
picking up Runty Mott and his COM
panionS.
And now Dave Henderson laughed
a little in a sort of grim saNagery-
Well. the race was on-and on 70
finish! He knew the men too well In
that gray car behind him to delude
idea. They wanted that little black
handbag. and they would get It II
they could: and they would get get, MIN, m
II they could, at any cost. Again ne
laughed, and now with the laugh
came that debonair lift to his sholn-
ders. His brain was working in
swift, lightning flashes: the only
hope Of shaking them of was In the
If it we're not the faster? Well. then.
yes-there was still a chance-on a
certain road he knew-the road he
had travelled that afternoon-if he
could make that road. 1t was a
best chance--to win aal-or: lose all
There would be no hedxifg--it was all
or nothing-win or lose. They would
not dare use their revolvers here in
the city streets. they could only cling
here in the city could put the respec-
tive speed of their cars to the test
but in the open. in the county
He looked over his shoulder again.
The big gray car, some fifty yards in
could distinguish the little red-haired
tout in the front seat beside the man
who was driving, a short, thick-set
man, whose cap was pulled down over
his eyes-Baldy vickers. He nodded
his head. His glance had measured
in his seat and crouching low over
the wheel, the back of his car seemed
high enough, not to afford him abso-
lutte immunity, but to afford him at
least a fair chance of protection once
he elected to invite the shots that
would be fired from the car behind.
Then the thought came that by one
Of dozen ways, by leaping from his
car as he turned a corner, Tor IN
stance, and darting into a building,
he might give his pursuers the slip
here in the city. But it was no good.
The game was up! He was not only
a fugitive from Baldy Vickers and his
wolves. he was q fugitive now from
the police. And If by some such
means as that he managed to give
Baldy Vickers the slip, there was still
the police-and, with a police dragnet
out he cut his chances Of escape by bet
ter than half il he remained in the city.
1t would not be long now before Tyde-
man, in view Of his, Dave Henderson, 8,
non-appearance. would become aware
of the theft; and. granting that he
eluded Badly vickers. the gangster.
eager for revenge. would be the nrst
to curry favor with the police-Baldy
vfckers had only to state that one of
his pals saw him, Dave Henderson,
crawling out through Tydeman's Ii
brary window. There was nothing to
it! The game was up-even II he
saved his life. Thanks to Bookie
Skarvan! His jaws clamped again.
and the knuckles OF his hands stood
out in white knobs as they clenched
in sudden passion on the wheel.
Thanks to Bookie Skarvan! BY God.
that alone was worth living for-to
settle with Bookie Skarvan!
Continued in Tomorrows Star.)