l was almost at the wharf. It seemed
an age, a year to Jimmie Dale before the line was clear. Shouts rang
still louder across the lawn--the police, racing in a pack, were more
than halfway from the house. He flung the line into the boat, sprang in
after it--and Mittel, looming over him, grasped at the boat's gunwhale.

Both men were panting from their exertions.

"Let go!" snarled Jimmie Dale between clenched teeth.

Mittel's answer was a hoarse, gasping shout to the police to hurry--and
then Mittel reeled back, measuring his length upon the wharf from a blow
with a boat hook full across the face, driven with a sudden, untamed
savagery that seemed for the moment to have mastered Jimmie Dale.

There was no time--not a second--not the fraction of a second.
Desperately, frantically he shoved the boat clear of the wharf.
Once--twice--three times he turned the engine over without success--and
then the boat leaped forward. Jimmie Dale snatched the mask from his
face, and jumped for the steering wheel. The police were rushing out
along the wharf. He could just faintly discern Mittel now--the man was
staggering about, his hands clapped to his face. A peremptory order to
halt, coupled with a threat to fire, rang out sharply--and Jimmie Dale
flung himself flat in the bottom of the boat. The wharf edge seemed to
open in little, crackling jets of flame, came the roar of reports like a
miniature battery in action, then the FLOP, FLOP, FLOP, as the lead tore
up the water around him, the duller thud as a bullet buried its nose in
the boat's side, and the curious rip and squeak as a splinter flew. Then
Mittel's voice, high-pitched, as though in pain:

"Can't any of you run a motor boat? He's got me bad, I'm afraid. That
other one there is twice as fast."

"Sure!" another voice responded promptly. "And if that's right, he's run
his head into a trap. Cast loose, there, MacVeay, and pile in, all of
you! You go back to the house, Mr. Mittel, and fix yourself up. We'll
get him!"

Jimmie Dale's lips thinned. It was true! If the other boat had any speed
at all, it was only a question of time before he would be overtaken.
The only point at issue was how much time. It was dark--that was in his
favour--but it was not so dark but that a boat could be distinguished on
the water for quite a distance, for a longer distance than he could hope
to put between them. There was no chance of eluding the police that
way! The keen, facile brain that h