She was just picking herself up from this patch of weeds when she caught a slight sound to her right. She looked. There was a man, a guard. He had turned. He was looking her way. Without doubt he had heard a sound as she struck the straw pile. But had he seen her?
Her heart pounded against her ribs as she crept deeper into the mass of protecting weeds.
CHAPTER XXXI
THE CREEPING SPOT
In the shack on Grand Avenue, Drew Lane stirred uneasily in his sleep. He awoke at last. With that feeling which so often comes to us in the middle of the night, that something is not right, he sat up in bed.
He stared about him. Johnny’s cot was empty. He could not understand. He threw on a light. Johnny was not in the room. He went to the door and looked out. He was nowhere to be seen.
The creaking of the door awakened the veteran detective.
“What’s wrong?” he asked sleepily.
“Johnny’s gone.”
“Gone?”
“Nowhere to be seen.”