me 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;

"Keep coming; we'll get him!"

Chester made no reply, for he knew none was expected. He kept close
behind his friend.

Now, suddenly, the fugitive reached the edge of the crowd. For a single
moment he paused, and gazed back at his pursuers. Once more he waved a
hand at Hal, and then, turning, started off at a run.

Hal, seeing that his quarry was about to make good his escape, suddenly
grew angry. Bringing some tactics learned on the football field into
play, he dashed forward, hurling spectators to right and left. In
another moment he, too, had reached the edge of the crowd and, with a
cry, dashed ahead.

He did