Neither Davis nor his companion had slowed up for this maneuver, so the pursuers had gained nothing because of the stranger’s attempt to aid them.

Davis and Blosberg now came to a cross street and turned the corner without slackening their speed.  Frank, still gaining steadily, darted around it a few seconds later, now less than seventy-five yards from his quarry.  Lord Hastings and Jack, running about evenly, were still fifty yards behind Frank.

The fugitives doubled around the next corner without diminishing their speed and Frank did likewise.  The next corner saw the same maneuver enacted, and this time Frank brought up against trouble as he followed unwarily.

As the lad turned the corner something struck him in the face and he went tumbling to the ground in a heap.  He felt as though he had collided with a wall.  He was just picking himself up when Jack and Lord Hastings darted around the corner and almost stumbled over him.

Jack would have stopped, but Frank shouted: 

“After them!  Never mind me.”

Jack and Lord Hastings dashed on, and Frank pulled himself up and took account of his injury.  A stream of blood flowed from a cut just over his left eye, but Frank knew that he was not badly hurt.

“One of them bumped me with his fist,” the lad told himself.  “I wonder which?  Guess it must have been Davis.  I don’t believe a German could do as much damage with his hand.”

Quickly he staunched the flow of blood and then darted after Jack and Lord Hastings, who at that moment were disappearing around another corner.

In spite of the cut on his face, Frank felt greatly refreshed by his enforced but brief rest, and he took after the others with renewed energy.

“They must be getting pretty tired,” he told himself as he dashed along.  “If Jack and Lord Hastings can just keep them in sight until I overtake them, I’ll promise not to be fooled again.”

Two minutes later he was again on even terms with Jack and Lord Hastings, and a moment later once more took the lead.  A minute later he again found himself less than fifty yards behind the fugitives, who were now plodding along more slowly and plainly out of wind.

“A little sprint here, I guess,” Frank muttered to himself, and suited the action to the word.

But the fugitives were able to round another corner before the lad could come up with them.  Remembering his past experience, Frank turned the corner more warily and then he came to a dead stop, a cry of dismay on his lips.

There was no one in sight.

“Now what in the name of all that’s wonderful can have happened to them?” he asked himself.

He looked around quickly.  The fugitives were not on the street.  Frank gazed at the house before which he stood.  It was a two-story brick building and stood right upon the street.  There was no yard.  A flight of eight stone steps led to a small vestibule.