Chapter XX: A Rascal’s Luck

It was quite by accident that young Mr. Gale, son of the proprietor of the _Chronicle_, learned of the _Bulletin’s_ contemplated exposé of police conditions in Oldham. He happened to be passing police headquarters just as Patrolman John Hicks, with whom he was acquainted, came out of that building. One glance at the policeman’s scowling face was sufficient to inform Gale that something was wrong.

“What’s the matter, John?” he inquired. “You look worried.”

“I am worried, Mr. Gale,” Patrolman Hicks replied. “Something happened to me last night while I was on duty that has got my goat. Walk up the street with me a little ways, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Gale, scenting a possible story for the _Chronicle_, eagerly accepted this invitation.

“It was shortly before two this morning,” Officer Hicks began. “I won’t deny that I was taking a little nap. You see, Mr. Gale, night work don’t agree with me at all. I think it’s an outrage to ask a human being to do it.”

“Certainly,” Gale agreed heartily. “But what happened, John?”

“What happened was this, Mr. Gale: I was leaning against a lamp-post, sort of dozing off--as I say, I’m not going to deny it--when all of a sudden there comes a flash of light which hits me right in the eyes, and a sort of explosion. Well, of course, I opens my eyes quick, and there, right in front of me, is a big black automobile with three young fellers in it. Before I can ask any questions, that automobile moves off rapidly up the street and disappears.”

Gale was by no means a slow-witted young man. The probable origin of that flash of light immediately suggested itself to him. There arose in his mind also a suspicion of the identity of at least one of the three occupants of the big black automobile.

“Didn’t one of those fellows have a camera in his hand, John?” he inquired excitedly.

“I didn’t notice any camera at the time,” replied the policeman, with a scowl; “but I guess they must have had one, all right. For, although I never suspected it--otherwise you can be sure I’d have chased that automobile--I have learned since that it was a flash-light picture of me the rascals was after.”

“Of course it was,” said Gale, with a laugh. “How long did it take you to get wise to that fact?”

“It was not until a few minutes ago that I found it out,” the policeman admitted. “I thought at the time that that flash of light was caused by a fuse blowin’ out in the car, or somethin’ of that sort. You see, I don’t know much about automobiles. And I might have gone on thinking that if it hadn’t been for me meetin’ Patrolman Tony Debbs at headquarters just now, and his tellin’ me what happened to him last night.”

“And what happened to Tony Debbs?” inquired Gale, greatly interested.

“He was taking a nap in a lumber yard on his beat, and first thing he knows he gets woke up by a flash of light in his eyes--the same kind of a flash that I got. Tony jumps up quick, and there was a young feller standin’ there with a camera in his hand. Imagine the nerve of him!”

“Did Debbs catch him?” Gale inquired eagerly.

“No; he wasn’t quite quick enough. The scamp got away in a big black touring car containing two other young men. From Tony’s description of the automobile and the rascals inside, I’m pretty sure it was the same bunch that I was up against.”

“Undoubtedly,” Gale agreed. “But do you mean to say, John, that neither Debbs nor you recognized any of those fellows?”

“No; we didn’t. You see, they wore goggles--the kind that automobilists wear, you know--and them things are pretty much of a disguise. Who do you suppose those rascals was, Mr. Gale? And what do you think they wanted our pictures for? I tell you, it’s got me worried. And Tony’s worried, too. He’s got an idea that that rag of a _Bulletin_ is behind it all. Do you think he’s right?”

“I certainly do, John,” Gale replied. “There isn’t the slightest doubt in my mind that those pictures were taken for the _Bulletin_, and will be prominently displayed on the front page of that disreputable sheet to-morrow morning. And I shouldn’t be surprised,” he added sagaciously, “to find other pictures there, too. You can depend upon it, John, that you and Debbs weren’t the only cops those chaps caught napping last night. The fact that they hired an automobile indicates that they were out for a big killing.”

“The scoundrels!” growled Officer Hicks. “Surely, Mr. Gale, we can do something to prevent them from printing our pictures in their newspaper? Ain’t there any way of stopping them?”

A malicious glint came to Gale’s eyes. “Probably there is, John,” he said. “We must see what we can do. Perhaps it will be possible not only to prevent them from publishing the pictures, but to put them in jail, besides, for violating the new anticamera law.”

As he finished speaking, his gaze lighted on a boy who was walking on the opposite side of the street.

“Seems to me I know that kid,” said Gale. “He’s employed in the _Bulletin_ office. My father pointed him out to me on the street the other day as Carroll’s office boy.”

Then his face suddenly lighted up as an idea came to him.

“Excuse me for a few minutes, John,” he said to the policeman. “I’m going to have a talk with our young friend across the way. I’ve got a sort of hunch that he may be able to help us.”