His hand raised, with the automatic held before him. He felt his overcoat pocket with his left hand to see if the package was still there. He rose to an erect position and started to saunter up the alley and away from the embassy building.
A shout behind him told that he had been detected. He turned his head and glanced over his shoulder. He dropped into a swift run. Two burgers, coming abreast, were hot on his trail. Their threats in Dutch echoed and reëchoed. Fay hurried on.
He came to a corner around which he turned. His eyes swept the street. The way ahead was clear. To one side, however, and deep within a hallway a form stood wrapped to the chin in a long coat.
Fay darted by this form with every muscle straining. He expected a shot or a cry to stop him. He turned his head as he was half-way down the first block. His eyes were bright now.
He saw the two burgers puff around the corner. They were running as one. Their legs were out-thrust when the muffled figure in the doorway extended a cane, tripped them up neatly and hurried away.
Fay chuckled and went on. He was safe! It had been the reaching arm of Scotland Yard that thrust out the cane. No one but MacKeenon could have done that thing half so cleverly.
CHAPTER X
A RETURN STROKE
Vivid memories remained in Fay’s mind as he reached the great Hôtel de Ville and turned toward the hostel where he had left the little silver greyhound.
The key to the dye cipher was safe with him. The blundering attempts of Dutch Gus and the German crooks to obtain this key showed that pressure had been applied from some quarter. The attack upon the embassy’s safe on the same evening of arrival proved that the German gang had wind that Scotland Yard was on the case.
Dutch Gus had failed and the matter was closed, thought Fay. He felt rather kindly for MacKeenon’s fortunate trip-up. He glanced over his shoulder as he passed out of the shadow of the Hôtel de Ville. He heard, as he walked on tiptoes, the far-off braying of the police who had most certainly lost his trail.