“Look here,” said Nicolas, eyeing Hal somewhat angrily.  “I don’t like your tone exactly.”

“I don’t exactly care whether you do or not,” returned Hal quietly.  “You are pretty small fry in this game, Nicolas, and I’m not afraid of you.  Remember, if anything should happen to me, you’ll have the German government on your trail, and then what would you do for gold?”

Nicolas opened his mouth to reply; then thought better of it and closed his lips without uttering a sound.

“All right, now that we understand each other,” said Hal.  “Get to work and produce the gold.”

Nicolas waited no further, but did as commanded.

“One,” counted Hal, as the man drew from beneath the board a little sack of gold.

One after another Hal counted them as they were laid on the floor at his feet, until in all there were seventeen little sacks, just small enough to permit of being stowed away in outside coat pockets.

“Two for each of us to carry,” said Hal, looking around, “and one over.  I’ll carry the extra one in my hand.”

“And don’t I get any of this?” demanded Nicolas, looking at the bags of gold longingly.

“You do not,” replied Hal, quietly.  “This money is to be given where it will do the most good.  You have had your chance with it.  Now it is my turn.”

“Very well,” said Nicolas, with a shrug of his shoulders.  “But I have made my agreement with the Austrian government; and when the war has been won, I shall get my pay.”

“Perhaps,” said Hal, with a double meaning, that was, of course, lost upon Nicolas, “you shall receive your just pay before the war ends.”

“Do you really think so?” asked Nicolas eagerly.  “I hope so.”

“But now,” said Hal, “it is time to be moving.  Pick up the gold, men, and let’s get away from here.”

The others obeyed.  Each stowed two sacks in his pocket and Hal carried the seventeenth package in his hand.  Then Hal motioned them out the door.  He emerged after them and his hand was on his automatic as he did so.

“Which way?” asked Chester.

“Straight ahead,” said Nicolas.

“No,” said Hal quietly.  “About face.  We are going the other way.”

“Where to?” demanded Nicolas surlily.

“Right back to Cettinje,” replied Hal, “where you shall be turned over to the Montenegrin authorities to meet the fate you deserve!”

CHAPTER X.

Flight.

Nicolas stopped short in his tracks.  His face went red, then white, then flushed a dull red again.  For a moment there was a deathly silence and then the Montenegrin sprang toward Hal with a cry of fury.  The boy stood his ground.

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” he said very quietly.

His automatic glistened in his hand at his hip.  Nicolas gazed down and then pulled himself up short as his eyes rested on the weapon.  He said nothing.