In this world one must learn that nothing may be taken for granted. With his flashlight pointed at his toes, Johnny had not gone a hundred paces on his return journey before, to his vast surprise, a figure sprang up from the darkness directly before him and went sprinting down the track.
So astonished was he that for a full ten seconds he stood motionless. This gave the fugitive a start.
“Must have been following me,” Johnny’s mind registered at last. “Wonder why?”
The next thought was: “He may be my man!” This startled him into action. Throwing his light far ahead, he saw the man plainly, even his face, for just then he looked back.
It was a wild sort of face, with a stubby beard, unkempt hair and no hat.
“That,” he thought, “is not my man. And yet—a day and a night in a tunnel. Who knows?”
At that he sprang away after the fugitive.
From the museum to the main line of tunnel is three eighths of a mile. The man was not a good runner. Johnny was. He gained. Foot by foot, yard by yard, rod by rod, he shortened the distance between them. Now he was five hundred feet behind, now three hundred, now two hundred, now—
But suddenly, as they neared the main line, the fugitive stopped. He appeared to place something in the center of the track. Then at redoubled speed he raced on.
At that moment Johnny seemed to hear a voice cry: