ruck his ears.

The infernally bright flame flickered, leaped outward from the window,
and died down almost as quickly as it had come, leaving twisted,
half-molten metal where the window frames had been.

They'd almost gotten him! Hawkes felt his legs weaken and quiver,
while his eyes remained glued to the spot that had lighted the whole
street a second before. They'd tried--but he'd escaped in time.

It must have been a thermite bomb--nothing but thermite could be that
hot. He had never imagined that even such a bomb could give so much
heat so quickly. Where? In the tape-recorder?

He waited numbly, expecting more fire, but the brief flame seemed to
have died out completely. He shook his head, unbelieving, and started
to cross the street again, to survey the damage or to join the crowd
that was beginning to collect.

* * * * *

The fear surged up in him again, halting his step as if he'd struck a
physical barrier. With it came the sound of an auto-horn, the button
held down permanently. His eyes darted down the street, to see a long,
gray sedan with old-fashioned running-boards come around the corner on
two wheels. Its brakes screeched, and it skidded to a halt beside
Hawkes' apartment building.

A slim young man in gray tweeds leaped out of it and came to a stop.
He threw back heavy black hair with a toss of his head and ran into
the crowd that parted to let him through. Someone began pointing
towards Hawkes.

Hawkes tried to slide around the corner without being seen, but a
flashlight in the young man's hands pinpointed him. A yell went up.

"There he goes!"

His feet sounded hopelessly on the sidewalk as he dashed up toward
Broadway, but behind came the sound of others in pursuit, and the
shouting was becoming a meaningless babble as others took it up. There
was no longer any doubt. Someone was certainly after him--there'd been
no time to turn in an alarm over the fire in his apartment. They'd
been coming for him before that started.

What hideous crime could he have committed during the period he
couldn't remember? Or what spy-ring had encircled him?

He had no time to think of the questions, even. He ducked into the
thin swarm of a few people leaving a theater just as the pursuing
group rounded the corner, with the slim young man in the lead.

Their cries were enough. Hands reached for him from the theater crowd,
and a foot stretched out to trip him up. Terror lent sp