ar. The weight on his back was
crushing. He could scarcely breathe.

"You--you have," he managed to groan.

"You'll come along," said the voice.

Curlie did not speak nor stir. The weight was partly lifted from his
back. The man had dropped one foot to the ground.

Now Curlie, had he been properly exercised for it when he was a child,
might have turned out a fair contortionist. He was exceedingly slim and
limber and had learned many of the tricks of the contortionist. He had
done this merely to amuse his friends. Now the tricks stood him in good
stead.

He did not attempt to rise by straightening up, as most persons would
have done. When the pressure grew less, he lay still doubled up, face
down upon the ground.

This gave him two advantages. It led his assailant to believe him
injured in some way and at the same time left him in position for the
next move.

When the pressure had been sufficiently removed for his purpose, he took
a quick, strong breath, then with a rush which set every muscle in
action, he thrust his head between his knees, gripped his own ankles and
did a double turn over which resembled nothing so much as a boulder
rolling down hill.

The next instant, finding himself free, he sprang to his feet, dodged
behind a taxi, shot past three moving cars, leaped to the pavement,
skirted a wall, then dodged into an alley.

Down this alley there was a doorway. Into the shadow of this doorway he
threw himself. There was a hole in the wooden door. A hook could be
reached through the hole. The hook quickly lifted, he found himself
inside a narrow court at the back of a large apartment building. There
was a driveway from this court into the street beyond.

Assuming a natural pace, he made his way down this driveway and out into
the street where, with a low whistled tune, he made his way back toward
the heart of the city. Five blocks farther down he paused to adjust his
clothing.

"Wow! but that was a close one," he muttered. "Don't know who my heavy
friend was but he sure wanted to detain me for some reason or other. But
say!" he mused; "how about that girl? Hope I didn't get her in bad by
flashing that light on her hand.

"But then," he thought more soberly, "perhaps she is the principal bad
one. Perhaps she is whispering on 200 just to mislead me. Who knows?
You've got to be wise as a serpent when you play this game, that's what
you've got to be. There's just two kinds of radio detectives, the quic