"Uh-huh."

"Can you describe it?"

"Why, I dunno--"

"Was it black, brown, white?"

"Kinda roan-colored, looked like."

"Get the number?"

"No, I--I plumb forgot to look."

Clay realized that Johnnie's powers of observation were not to be
trusted.

"Sure the car wasn't tan-colored?" he asked to test him.

"It might 'a' been tan, come to think of it."

"You're right certain Kitty was in it?"

"I heerd her holler from inside. She called my name. I run after the
car, but I couldn't catch it."

Clay slipped a revolver under his belt. He slid into a street coat.
Then he got police headquarters on the wire and notified the office of
what had taken place. He knew that the word would be flashed in all
directions and that a cordon would be stretched across the city to
intercept any suspicious car. Over the telephone the desk man at
headquarters fired questions at him, most of which he was unable to
answer. He promised fuller particulars as soon as possible.

It had come on to rain and beneath the street lights the asphalt shone
like a river. The storm had driven most people indoors, but as the
Westerner drew near the drugstore Clay saw with relief a taxicab draw
up outside. Its driver, crouched in his seat behind the waterproof
apron as far back as possible from the rain, promptly accepted Lindsay
as a fare.

"Back in a minute," Clay told him, and passed into the drug-store.

The abduction was still being discussed. There was a disagreement as
to whether the girl had stepped voluntarily into the car or been lifted
in by the man outside. This struck the cattleman as unimportant. He
pushed home questions as to identification. One of the men in the
drug-store had caught a flash of the car number. He was sure the first
four figures were 3967. The fifth he did not remember. The car was
dark blue and it looked like a taxi. This information Clay got the
owner of the car to forward to the police.

He did not wait to give it personally, but joined Johnnie in the cab.
The address he gave to the driver with the waterproof hat pulled down
over his head was that of a certain place of amusement known as Heath's
Palace of Wonders. A young woman he wanted to consult was wont to sit
behind a window there at the receipt of customs.

"It's worth a fiver extra if you make good time," Lindsay told the
driver.

"You're on, boss," answered the man gruffly.

Johnnie, in a fever of anxiety, had trotted along be