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Emile’s face was a study at this amazing intelligence.

“When I came to look for the old fellow, a moment ago, I found he’d escaped. I don’t know where he has gone. That’s why we’d better cut and run for it, before he sets up an alarm.”

“Run!” Emile shook his head. “I have been running–with the Black Wolf at my heels. I thought they had me cornered more than once. They’re after me now, the whole pack.”

“Do they know you’re here?”

“I dare say; they were right behind me.” He cursed violently. “And to think that I missed Cousin Alfred, after all!”

“You had no business in the city. You must get out again.”

“It’s too late now. Why, it’s nearly six o’clock. I could never get away before it’s time for masks off.”

“Nevertheless, you must try,” Van Dam said, decisively. “If you stay here, you’re lost. We’ll climb the fence at the rear of the next yard and slip out through the stable way.”

Emile pondered for a moment. “I hadn’t thought of that. It’s a chance, but you can’t go with me. I sha’n’t allow it.”

“Nonsense!”

“You don’t know the Wolf! If I were seen it would mean the death of both of us.”

“Very well, then, I’ll leave by the front way. Now go!”

Van Dam half shoved the young man toward the door.

“Thanks,” murmured the fugitive. “You seem to be the right sort. If I live, I sha’n’t forget.” The next instant he was gone.

Roly watched him race across the yard, squeeze through the hedge; then, an instant later, saw his form as he mounted the fence to the wagon inclosure where the Spider had gone to his destruction earlier in the afternoon. It was a risky route to safety, he reflected, but, in view of what Emile had said about his pursuers, it was infinitely preferable to any other.

Why he had helped the fellow Van Dam scarcely knew, unless it was because of his sympathy for the under dog. Whatever the boy had done, he possessed a reckless bravery that was commendable, and he still held his mother’s love.

Roly was about to close the door when he saw a second man, in a long, black domino, briefly silhouetted above the fence. Then he heard a whistle. The fellow dropped over into the tracks of Emile, leaving the New-Yorker amazed at the apparition. A sickening fear clutched Van Dam, but he knew it was useless to cry out. Could it be that he had sent the young fellow to his death?

When a moment, then another, had passed with no sound from that quarter, he closed the kitchen door and retraced his steps swiftly to the front of the house.

As he came to the library entrance he found it closed, and, from inside, he heard a tinkle as if a telephone hook was being violently agitated. Inclining his ear, a low, agonized voice came to him:

“… Le Duc again…. Why haven’t you sent the police?… Robbery…. My cousin Emile … murder me…. God above! They are slow!… He will escape….”

Van Dam tried the door. It was locked. Then he called, sweetly: “Alfred! My dear cousin Alfred!”

The voice at the telephone ended in a shriek. There came a crash as the instrument fell from the old man’s fingers.

So the police were on their way! Escape, then, must be but a matter of moments. With his heart pounding, Van Dam stepped into the drawing-room and reconnoitered from a front window. What he saw did not reassure him, particularly in view of Emile’s words; for, directly opposite, he beheld a masked man in a black domino who looked very much like the Black Wolf. Scattered up and down the block were others, all idling about in a seemingly objectless manner. Evidently the house was surrounded. He dared not risk the back way, after what he had seen. He could not remain. From the library again came that faint, frantic tinkling.