“It was you who stole the keys from Jeff Tucker after getting him drunk, wasn’t it?”
“What if I did?” the robber growled. “I wish I’d finished him!”
Unceremoniously, the three prisoners were crowded into the police car. One of the deputies took the steering wheel and another stood on the running board, covering the robbers with his revolver. There was no room left for the marshal.
“Are you going back through town?” he asked Nancy.
“Yes, it’s right on my way to River Heights,” she responded without a thought as to the purpose of the question.
“Then if you don’t mind I’ll ride back with you. There isn’t room in the police car.”
“Why—why, of course,” Nancy stammered.
At once she thought of the clock which she had left on the seat of the roadster. What if the marshal should discover it?
Even as the thought came to her, the marshal started toward the roadster.