his haste he had left a trail. One window was open. Stan saw clothes
tossed about showing the haste with which he had changed. He leaped to
the window and slipped out, letting himself to the ground.

As he pushed aside a thick bush near the wall he saw the street dimly.
There was no one on it wearing a Royal Air Force uniform. The only
person on the dark street was a man in civilian clothes. Stan stared
hard for a moment, then sucked in his breath and started after the man,
who was sauntering swiftly into the darkness.

At the first shaded light Stan realized that the man he was trailing was
Garret, and that the officer was in a big hurry. He strode along,
pausing now and then to peer back and to listen. Stan used the tactics
he had learned in Colorado while hunting mule deer. He moved when
Garret moved and stopped when Garret stopped. Sliding along noiselessly
he shifted from one patch of black shadow to another.

Stan did not remember how many blocks they walked, but he knew where he
was in a general way. When Garret ducked down a flight of narrow steps,
Stan moved up and listened. The opening below was black dark. He heard a
door open but saw no light. Then he heard a guttural voice challenging
Garret. After that the door closed and there were no other sounds.

Stan listened for a full minute. As he stood there unmoving, a part of
the black shadow along the wall, he considered the situation. He had
left his gun in his room. He was unarmed and those below would have
guns. A burning desire glowed within him, a desire to have a look at the
men Garret was meeting. Carefully he felt his way down the stairs and
located the door.

The knob turned soundlessly under pressure but the door was locked.
Moving back up the stairs, Stan stood looking at the old house which
rose above the basement where Garret had entered. The house was one of
a row that had been hit by several demolition bombs. Most of the upper
and the first story had been wrecked and the debris had not yet been
cleared away. That was strange, because most of the other houses in the
row had been damaged, too, but had been repaired.

Stan moved up the front steps, picking his way through a litter of brick
and broken timbers. He saw a doorway ahead, with a door sagging open
upon smashed hinges. Moving slowly and carefully Stan entered the room.
A pile of plaster and brick lay on the floor with some broken furniture
stacked in a corner. He was about to turn aw