“Perhaps you had better look around the room first,” interposed Herr Schaumberg. “You may get some clew to where he is going.”
The hotel keeper knew well enough that Gilbert had left no clew behind him, but, as said before, he wanted to give the young American all the time possible in which to make good his escape. Gilbert’s frank manner had pleased him from the start, and, for reasons of his own, he bore no good feeling towards the soldiers of the Czar.
The suggestion to search the room was carried out, but nothing of importance was found, even in the trunk, which was smashed open with a hatchet.
“It’s no use wasting time here,” said the corporal at last. “Come, the quicker we get on his trail the better.”
“Yes! yes!” came from Frau Schaumberg. “And I trust with ah my heart you capture him.”
“Oh, we are sure to do that, sooner or later. Every road out of Port Arthur is guarded, so he cannot get away from the city. If we don’t locate him anywhere else, we’ll probably root him out from some nest of Japanese or Chinese.”
CHAPTER IX
GILBERT LEAVES PORT ARTHUR
Once in the courtyard of the German hotel, Gilbert did not stop to consider the situation. He knew that the Russian soldiers were in front of the place, and his only chance of safety lay in flight to the rear.
Running as rapidly as he could with the satchel, which was tightly packed and heavy, he passed to one side of the stables, and entered a small alleyway leading to a back street. The alleyway was littered with rubbish, and he went down twice, tearing his clothing in several places, and scratching his left hand.
“This is certainly no picnic,” he muttered, as he picked himself up for the second time. “But they shan’t catch me—not if I know it!”