ight for lamps. Bridge led the way toward a certain eating-place of
which he knew where a man might dine well and from a clean platter for
two bits. Billy had been keeping his eyes open for detectives. They
had passed no uniformed police--that would be the crucial test, thought
he--unless Bridge intended tipping off headquarters on the quiet and
having the pinch made at night after Billy had gone to bed.

As they reached the little restaurant, which was in a basement, Bridge
motioned Billy down ahead of him. Just for an instant he, himself,
paused at the head of the stairs and looked about. As he did so a man
stepped from the shadow of a doorway upon the opposite side of the
street.

If Bridge saw him he apparently gave no sign, for he turned slowly and
with deliberate steps followed Billy down into the eating-place.

CHAPTER IV. ON THE TRAIL. AS THEY entered the place Billy, who was
ahead, sought a table; but as he was about to hang up his cap and seat
himself Bridge touched his elbow.

"Let's go to the washroom and clean up a bit," he said, in a voice that
might be heard by those nearest.

"Why, we just washed before we left our room," expostulated Billy.

"Shut up and follow me," Bridge whispered into his ear.

Immediately Billy was all suspicion. His hand flew to the pocket in
which the gun of the deputy sheriff still rested. They would never
take him alive, of that Billy was positive. He wouldn't go back to life
imprisonment, not after he had tasted the sweet freedom of the wide
spaces--such a freedom as the trammeled city cannot offer.

Bridge saw the movement.

"Cut it," he whispered, "and follow me, as I tell you. I just saw a
Chicago dick across the street. He may not have seen you, but it looked
almighty like it. He'll be down here in about two seconds now. Come
on--we'll beat it through the rear--I know the way."

Billy Byrne heaved a great sigh of relief. Suddenly he was almost
reconciled to the thought of capture, for in the instant he had realized
that it had not been so much his freedom that he had dreaded to lose as
his faith in the companion in whom he had believed.

Without sign of haste the two walked the length of the room and
disappeared through the doorway leading into the washroom. Before them
was a window opening upon a squalid back yard. The building stood upon
a hillside, so that while the entrance to the eating-place was below the
level of the street in front, its rear was flus