Even as the two boys looked, an arm came from behind him, and reaching across his shoulder, a hand crept cautiously into the pocket of the officer’s military cloak, which he had thrown open because of its warmth.

Hal uttered a low exclamation and was about to step forward when there came a sudden shout from the crowd, which surged in about him, cutting off his view of the Italian officer.  For a single instant Hal turned his eyes toward the palace and there took one look at a second uniformed figure, who stood upon the top step and waved his arms about violently.

“I guess war has come,” the boy muttered to himself, as he took a step forward and elbowed his way toward the spot where the other Italian officer stood.

Chester came close behind his friend.

By dint of hard pushing and shoving, which drew ugly remarks from some of the bystanders upon whose feet they trod, the boys at last came to the spot they sought.  They had made good time and the invisible owner of the hand that had explored the officer’s pocket was just withdrawing it.  And in it Hal saw a white paper flutter.

He uttered a cry and dashed forward in spite of the crowd.  At almost the same moment the officer came to life.  Instinct must have warned him that there was something wrong.  He clapped his hand to his pocket, and then uttered a fierce ejaculation in his native tongue.

He wheeled about with a cry, and his arm shot out.  There was a struggle, and then the officer fell to the ground.  A blow from his adversary’s fist had laid him low.  Hal, who was a few leaps ahead of Chester, reached out to seize the man, who, he could see, still held the bit of white paper in his hand, but the other was too quick for him.

With a sudden backward leap he was among the crowd, which, apparently, had failed to grasp the significance of the trouble.  Hal uttered a quick cry to Chester and also dashed into the crowd.  Chester followed him.

Ahead, but almost hidden by others of the crowd, which pressed forward the better to see what was going on upon the palace steps, Hal could see his quarry squirming his way through the dense mass of humanity.

“Stop him!” he cried, raising his voice to a shout.

The crowd paid no heed.  The people were too wrapped up in what was going on before the palace to notice the three who were trying to force their way through.  Again Hal cried out, but the result was the same.

For a brief instant the fugitive glanced over his shoulder, and he waved a hand at Hal.  It was the first time the lad had seen his face, and he knew that he would recognize it again wherever he saw it.

“I’ll get you yet,” declared Hal to himself between tightly shut lips.  “I’ll get you if it takes a year.”

He pressed on, with Chester close at his heels.

Turning and squirming and twisting their way, the lads managed to plod on through the dense crowd at a snail’s pace.  Ahead of them, however, Hal could see that the fugitive was making about the same progress.  His hopes rose, and he called over his shoulder to Chester;