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Chapter Five – The Chase
Tintin ran to the gates and pushed through the crowd to the street, but the cab was gone. Cursing his luck, he looked around quickly. Spying a police car to his right that was just being approached, he called "I'll bring this back to the station later!" and slid into the driver's seat. Turning the keys in the ignition, he stepped on the accelerator as the car rumbled to life and Snowy jumped over his lap. "Thank you!" he called behind him with a wave as he slammed the door shut, and took off down the road.
Speeding up quickly, Tintin continued down the main road until he caught sight of a black cab. "I can't see the licence plate, it's all dirty – but if I follow the cab until that fellow gets out, maybe I can get some answers." Remembering he was in police car, he smiled. "Even better – I can stop them right here!"
Turning on his sirens, Tintin saw the car in front of him slow, then come to a stop. Bringing his own vehicle to a stop, he barely had his door open when he saw a figure dart out of the taxi.
Jumping out of the police car, Tintin took off after his objective. Starting down an alley, he saw a dark coat rounding the next corner. Calling his dog, the journalist and his companion darted through side streets after their quarry. After a few more abrupt turns, his pulse quickened even further. We're gaining on them, he thought as he saw the man's hat fall as he rounded a corner. Following closer behind now, Tintin rounded the corner and –
The crowded bustle of the main street pressed into him as he tried to weave through them, but in a few moments it was evident that he had lost him. Pausing, Tintin's eyebrows came together. "There goes my clue," he commented. Turning around, he continued, "I may as well return the car."
Hearing Snowy bark with excitement, Tintin remembered. Of course, the hat!
Ten minutes later, Tintin entered a small but obviously well-to-do hat shop that bore the same name as the one on the label of the hat. Turning the hat of the pickpocket over in his hands, he waited until the grey-haired shop attendant was finished with the only other customer. As he left, the woman turned to him and said, "Can I help you young man?"
"Yes, thank you," Tintin replied cordially. "Could you tell me who bought this hat from your shop?"
The woman took the hat from him, and looked it over. "One moment, let me get my husband – he remembers all of the hats we sell." She disappeared for a moment, and then came back with a man of about the same age. "Dear, this young man would like to know who this hat was sold to."
Taking the hat in his hands, the kindly hat maker smiled. "Why yes! This is one of the hats I made for Mr. Hartley."
"Of course, I don't know why I didn't recognize it right away! Such a lovely fellow." His wife added.
"Mr. Hartley was a patron of your shop?" Tintin asked.
"Why yes indeed! He bought his hats here ever since our business started and wasn't doing very well, and continued right up until he passed on a few days ago." The man smiled and handed the hat back to Tintin. "But how did it come to be in your possession?"
"I'm a journalist." Tintin responded. "I'm writing about Mr. Hartley." Not wanting to upset the helpful couple, he nodded and didn't extrapolate. "Thank you for your time."
Tintin left the shop with Snowy at his heels. "Mr. Hartley's hat . . ." he muttered as he continued slowly down the street. Turning a corner, he was so deep in thought that he didn't notice a figure emerging behind him. They struck him over the head, and when Tintin awoke Mr. Hartley's hat was gone.