It was like a frightful nightmare—the stealthy, breathless chase which followed. She could not stop the boys in their mad search, could not command their attention a moment to explain. In and out they darted—fourth-grade, fifth-grade, sixth-grade, seventh! Every crack and cranny, every cloaking-room and teacher's desk was made to prove its innocence of sheltering the fugitive spy. The scampering boys were just finishing their search of the seventh grade when Louise found herself at the foot of the garret steps.
She stopped and surveyed their boxed-up secretiveness. What if Rudolph had gone up there?
From the sounds of disappointment now issuing from the seventh grade she knew that the last schoolroom to be searched had not yielded up the quarry. Yes, Rudolph must be in the garret, and of course the boys would pursue him there!
Then a sudden idea came to her. If she could but reach Rudolph first she might help him to climb out of the garret window.
Up the dark steps she flew, but, alas! there were flying feet to follow! The others had seen, and were coming after.
They caught up with her before she reached the top, and she and they burst into the long garret room together.
It was big with mystery—that long garret place—and weirdly frightening with its half-lights and whole shadows. For one moment the children stood at pause before its awesome silence.
No German spy was in sight.
Then the boys began searching hurriedly, and after a quick glance about the open and lighter space before them, went pushing their quest farther and farther into the distant dark of the wings and gables.
Louise stood where they had left her, with the feeling that the end of all things was at hand, and that there was no use to struggle further. Presently her mist-dimmed eyes were attracted to a pile of something over at a small window near where she stood. The janitor had thrown their beautiful flag across an old couch without taking the trouble to roll it properly.