ey have broken through," said Jack.

"Well, the last may have happened; though I should think we'd have got
some word of it in that case. There'd be fierce fighting if the Germans
tried that, and we'd rush reinforcements out in taxicabs as the Paris
soldiers went out once before."

"Do you think then," asked Jack, as they went back, after their brief
respite, to their appalling labors, "that they have a gun long enough
to fire from their nearest point, which is about seventy miles from this
city?"

"I don't know what to think," remarked Tom. "It seems like a wild dream
to speak of a gun that can shoot so far; and yet reality is over-topping
many wild dreams these days. I'm going to reserve judgment. My chief
concern now, though of course I'm not going to let it interfere with my
work, is to find my father. If he should have been in here, Jack--"

Tom did not finish, but his chum knew what he meant, and sympathized
with his unexpressed fear for the safety of Mr. Raymond.

Digging and delving into the ruins, they brought out the racked and
maimed bodies, and there was more than one whose eyes were wet with
tears, while in their hearts wild and justifiable rage was felt at the
ruthless Germans.

Ten had been killed and nearly twice that number wounded in the third
shell from the Hun cannon.

From a policeman Tom learned that one of the two buildings that had been
demolished was the number given by Mr. Raymond as the place he would
stay.

"The place he picked out may have been full, and he might have gone
somewhere else," said Tom. "We've got to find out about that, Jack."

"That's right. I should think the best person, or persons, to talk to
would be the janitors, or '_concierges_,' as they call 'em here."

"I'll do that," responded Tom.

Aided by an army officer, to whom the boys had recommended themselves,
not only by reason of their rank, but because of their good work in the
emergency, they found a man who was in charge of all three buildings as
a renting agent. Fortunately he had his books, which he had saved from
the wreck.

"You ask for a Monsieur Raymond," he said, as he scanned the begrimed
pages. "Yes, he was here. It was in the middle building he had a room."

"In the one that was destroyed?" asked Tom, his heart sinking.

"I regret to say it--yes."

"Then I--then it may be all up with poor old dad!" and Tom, with a
masterful effort, restrained his grief, while Jack gripped his chum's
hand har