ou, Johnny, that your action is
entirely illegal," Loring confidentially stated.

"They're my bonds, bought with my money," asserted Johnny.

"I know, but it has to be proved," argued Loring. "Your only way to get
possession of them is through the courts. Your present action has no
better legal status than highway robbery."

"I got the bonds, didn't I?" demanded Johnny. "Now you move. Here comes
a copper, and if he gets those bonds for evidence I won't see them
again for months."

A policeman appeared in the exact center of the perspective, followed
by a faithful emissary of the Ember Detective Agency.

"The bonds are no good to you just now unless Gresham assigns them,"
insisted Loring almost tearfully, and both Constance and Polly gave up
in despair.

"That's right," agreed Johnny, glancing over his shoulder at the
policeman and the indignant detective. Suddenly he pushed Gresham
headlong into the midst of the party and jumped in after him. "Hold
him, Loring!" he directed, and dismissed the stupefied Gresham from his
mind.

With remarkable deftness he had extracted a single bill from his pocket
and thrust it into the hand of the experienced chauffeur.

"Break the limit!" he tensely ordered.

"Where?" asked the chauffeur, whirling out of the line with a jerk.

"Any place," and the chauffeur, being a night worker and understanding
his business, accepted that direction with grinning relish and left the
depot policeman trying to remember the number of his machine.

As they went up the incline from the ticket-lobby door Johnny arranged
the bewildered girls on the two little front seats, and wedged the
cowed Gresham carefully in between himself and Loring on the back seat.

The chauffeur, knowing the only regular time-killing drive in the city,
hit out for Central Park. Gresham was incapable of thought or action.
As they crossed Forty-second Street Johnny touched his driver on the
shoulder, and that handy criminal came to an immediate halt at the
curb. Johnny opened the door. Gresham moved. Loring quickly clutched
him by the knee. The chauffeur looked back.

"Leave it to me," he suggested in most friendly tones. "You don't need
to change taxis."

"I'd feel more like a real sport if I hired two," Johnny argued,
studying his man intently.

"I've got two numbers and I'll switch 'em," offered the assistant
brigand.

"I think the police must know you by name," commented Johnny, "but I'll
take a chance," and