Kennedy seemed wild with anxiety. "Then both models have been
stolen!" he cried, dashing after the Secret Service men with me
close behind.

The crook by this time had reached the top of the wall. Just as he
was about to let himself down safely on the other side, a shot
struck him. He pitched over and we ran forward.

But he had just enough of a start. In spite of the shock and the
wound he managed to pick himself up and with the help of a
confederate hobbled into a waiting car, which sped away just as we
came over the wall.

We dropped to the ground just as another car approached. Craig
commandeered it from its astonished driver, the Secret Service men
and I piled in and we were off in a few seconds in hot pursuit.

. . . . . . .

Down at the terminal where trains came in from Washington, Wu,
much better now, was waiting.

He had pulled a long coat over his Chinese clothes and wore a
slouch hat. As he looked at the incoming passengers he spied the
man he was waiting for, the young crook who had been waiting in
the shrubbery outside the Navy Building when the torpedo model was
thrown out.

The man had the model carefully wrapped up, under his arm. As his