THE END OF BLOSBERG.
Lord Hastings and Frank needed no urging. With a cry to the other occupants of the boat to remain there until they returned, Lord Hastings leaped lightly ashore and dashed in pursuit of the fugitives. Jack and Frank were close at his heels.
All had drawn their revolvers and a weapon swung in the right hand of each as he sped over the ground.
Ahead the fugitives had redoubled their efforts. A quick backward glance had showed them they were pursued and now they sped over the ground as fast as their legs would carry them.
Frank gradually forged ahead of the others. At school the lad had always been known as something of a sprinter and his training stood him in good stead now.
"Wait for us," panted Lord Hastings, but Frank paid no heed and continued to lengthen the distance between himself and his friends.
The fugitives had now reached the first street off the waterfront and were dashing along it madly, still more than a hundred yards ahead of Frank, their nearest pursuer. Strangely enough, there was not another soul in sight at this minute, for they were still at the extreme edge of the city.
But at this moment a man suddenly came out of a building ahead and stood looking at the running men curiously. Frank raised his voice.
"Stop 'em!" he shouted.
The man stepped directly in front of the fugitives and threw up a hand, signifying for them to halt. But the fugitives had no time to waste on him. Frank saw Davis, who was slightly in advance of Blosberg, extend his arm before him; and a moment later the man who would have stayed the fugitives' progress went sprawling in the street. In the language of the football field, Davis had "stiff-armed" him.
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.
"Guess they must have gone up there," the lad muttered.
He moved up the steps just as Lord Hastings and Jack hove in sight around the corner. They pulled up at Frank's side.
"Where did they go?" demanded Lord Hastings.
"I don't know," replied Frank, "unless they went in this house."
"We'll have a look," said Lord Hastings briefly, and mounted the steps.
Frank and Jack followed him.
Lord Hastings turned the knob and the door opened easily.
"Look out, sir," warned Frank. "They're liable to take a shot at you from some place."
Lord Hastings did not reply, but issued orders rapidly.
"Frank, you take the rear door. If it's locked the chances are they are in the house. Jack, hunt the door to the basement and stand guard there, also keeping an eye on this door if possible. I'll try and round them up."
The two lads nodded their understanding of these orders. Jack found a door leading to the basement, in the hall, fortunately still in view of the front door. Frank dashed to the rear of the house and found the back door still locked.
"They must be in here, then," declared Lord Hastings.
He examined his revolver carefully and then, holding it ready for instant use, entered the front room. There was no one there.
In vain Lord Hastings explored all the downstairs rooms. There was no one to be found. He came again into the hall.
"Must be upstairs," he said to Jack as he passed him.
He mounted the stairs rapidly, though cautiously. In the first room he entered he found nothing. The door of the second room was shut. Lord Hastings laid a hand on the knob and turned it. The door opened easily and Lord Hastings stepped over the threshold.
And even as he would have moved into the room a hand, gripping the barrel of a revolver, was raised in the air and descended violently in the direction of Lord Hastings' head. Fortunately the latter caught the glint of steel and whirled in time to dodge the blow and grasp the arm that delivered it. At the same time he shouted:
"Frank! Jack! Upstairs!"
Then he gave his entire attention to his foes, of whom he now found, there were two. Lord Hastings recognized the man whose arm he grasped as Davis. Blosberg, with levelled revolver, was circling about the struggling figures, seeking an opportunity to shoot Lord Hastings without wounding Davis.
With a mighty effort Lord Hastings lifted Davis clear of his feet and, exerting tremendous strength, swung him around. There was a sound of a thud, and Davis' figure dropped limply to the floor. His head had come in contact with the solid wall.
At the same moment Blosberg fired and Lord Hastings felt a stinging sensation in his left shoulder.
He staggered back.
Blosberg took advantage of this and darted out the door just as Frank appeared at the top of the steps. Both raised their revolvers at the same moment, but Blosberg was the first to fire.
Frank's gun seemed to explode in his hand. It leaped in the air like a live thing and the lad felt a strange sensation in his hand. He wiggled his fingers, but now he was unable to tell whether he had a right hand or not. There was no feeling there. Blosberg's bullet had struck the lad's revolver and the shock had numbed the lad's hand.
Before Frank could recover, Blosberg had darted down the hall and turned into a narrow passageway at the end of it, disappearing just in time to escape a bullet from Jack's revolver, the lad appearing on the second floor at that moment.
He dashed after Blosberg.
Turning off the main hall into the narrow passage at the end, Jack brought up sharply against an object in the semi-darkness; but he found no Blosberg. Quickly he took a match from his pocket and struck it. There was no sign of Blosberg, and Jack made out that the object that had interrupted his progress was a ladder leading upward toward the roof.
"He's up on the roof," cried Jack. "Come on."
Without taking thought of what danger might be in store for him above, he mounted the ladder rapidly.
When Blosberg reached the roof he had replaced the trapdoor, but he wasted no time, and began looking for a means of descent. He still held a gun in his hand and whirled sharply as the trapdoor suddenly flew open. He saw Jack at the same moment Jack saw him, and both fired.
But the aim of each was poor and Jack followed his shot by leaping to the roof. Then he dropped down suddenly as Blosberg fired again, and, still unharmed, drew himself quickly behind a chimney nearby. Blosberg took refuge behind a second chimney.
Now Lord Hastings' head appeared and drew back suddenly as Blosberg took a quick shot at him.
"All right, sir, come on!" called Jack. "I'll get him if he tries to pot you again."
Lord Hastings sprang through the opening and a moment later Frank also appeared on the roof. Blosberg made no effort to fire again, apparently realizing the hopelessness of his case.
Frank and Lord Hastings now had taken their places with Jack behind the chimney.
"Well, we can't fool around here all day," said Jack. "We'll circle about and one of us can get him."
Lord Hastings, wounded, was left behind the chimney, while Frank, who had produced another revolver, leaped out suddenly to the left, Jack at the same time springing to the right. Then they moved forward.
"Hold on," came Blosberg's voice at this moment. "I surrender."
The three friends breathed easier.
"Drop your gun and come out—and have your hands in the air," ordered Jack, still holding his revolver ready.
A moment later Blosberg appeared, unarmed.
Jack lowered his own weapon, and as he did so Blosberg, with a sudden cry, dashed forward and leaped off the roof into space.
For a brief instant Jack was stunned; then he dashed to the edge of the roof and peered over. He saw Blosberg's twisting, tumbling body crash head-first upon the hard walk, and then lay still.