The car rolled on in the darkness while Stan sprinted along the hedge. He passed through a back yard two jumps ahead of a shaggy dog and headed up an alley. A few minutes later he was hurrying down the blacked-out street.
Reaching a tavern Stan saw two bicycles shoved into a rack beside the door. One of them was locked but the other was loose. Stan slipped it out and headed up the street again. He was mounting the cycle when he heard shouts down the street and men running. Dimmed car headlights gleamed. The officers were on his trail again. Stan ducked into a narrow path and pedaled away as hard as he could.
The officers chasing him drove along the road, which ran parallel to the lane. They had a spotlight on one of the cars which they kept moving in wide circles. Finally the light passed over Stan and the men began shouting for him to halt. The light came back and held on him.
Stan sent the bike into a cross path and was out of the beam and headed away from the road. He pedaled furiously. The men were out of the cars and running after him. At the first left-hand turn Stan headed back in the direction he wanted to go and kept pumping away.
The shouting behind him died down and he began to think he had evaded his pursuers. Suddenly the lane broke out into the main road. Stan headed down the road. He could see the looming bulk of a hangar against the sky and knew that he was nearing headquarters. Suddenly he heard a car behind him. Looking back he saw that one of the cars was close upon him. He kept on pedaling but the car rapidly gained on him. It was very close when he saw a gate ahead.
With five British officers on his heels, Stan ditched the bike and sprinted for the gate. Under shaded lights he saw two Yank soldiers. He reached them ten yards ahead of the Britishers, having outrun the secret-service men. The guards barred the way.
“Get a guard and take me to headquarters,” Stan snapped.
“We turn all civilians over to the local police,” one of the guards said. He grinned at Stan. “Looks like they were right on the job, too.”
“They think I’m a spy, but I’m an Eighth Air Force officer and I have important information for Colonel Holt, my commander.” Stan spoke sternly.
The British officers closed in. Their leader said: