The object of the lads’ conversation was hurrying furtively along one of the narrow streets of the Russian capital, casting occasional glances about him.
It was the afternoon of the day following that upon which they had reached Petrograd, and Frank and Jack, together with Lord Hastings, had only just come from the palace, where they had been given an audience with the Czar. Upon leaving the palace Lord Hastings had been for returning aboard the D-16 immediately, but the lads had expressed a desire to see something of the city, and had set out by themselves. The only instructions Lord Hastings had given them was to be aboard before dark.
“Well,” said Jack, still eyeing the little man slinking along the street, “I’m sure that fellow is up to something. I’d like to know what.”
“I suppose the easiest way to find out,” said Frank, “is to follow him.”
“That suits me,” replied Jack. “Come on.”
A hundred yards behind they set out in pursuit of the suspect.
“What’s that thing he is carrying under his arm?” asked Frank.
“Looks like it might be a bomb.”
Frank laughed.
“Not much danger of that,” he said.