nspector, who was even less inclined to listen to
reason than the constables.

"Everyone who breaks the law has a good excuse, my lad," he said. "If we
listened to all of them we might as well close up this place. You can tell
your story to the magistrate in the morning. You'll be well treated
to-night, and you're better off with us than running around the country--a
lad of your age! If I were your father, I should see to it that you were in
bed and asleep before this."

There was no arguing with such a man, especially when he was sleepy. So
Harry submitted, very quietly, to being put into a cell. He was not treated
like a common prisoner; that much he was grateful for. His cell was really
a room, with windows that were not even barred. And he saw that he could be
very comfortable indeed.

"You'll be all right here," said one of the constables. "Don't worry, my
lad. You'll be let off with a caution in the morning. Get to sleep
now--it's late, and you'll be roused bright and early in the morning."

Harry smiled pleasantly, and thanked the man for his good advice. But he
had no intention whatever of taking it. He did not even take off his
clothes, though he did seize the welcome chance to use the washstand that
was in the room. He had been through a good deal since his last chance to
wash and clean up, and he was grimy and dirty. He discovered, too, that he
was ravenously hungry. Until that moment he had been too active, too busy
with brain and body, to notice his hunger.

However, there was nothing to be done for that now. He and Dick had not
stopped for meals that day since breakfast, and they had eaten their
emergency rations in the early afternoon. In the tool case on his impounded
motorcycle Harry knew there were condensed food tablets--each the
equivalent of certain things like eggs, and steaks and chops. And there
were cakes of chocolate, too, the most nourishing of foods that are small
in bulk. But the knowledge did him little good now. He didn't even know
where the motorcycle had been stored for the night. It had been
confiscated, of course; in the morning it would be returned to him.

But he didn't allow his thoughts to dwell long on the matter of food. It
was vastly more important that he should get away. He had to get his news
to Colonel Throckmorton. Perhaps Dick had done that. But he couldn't trust
that chance. Aside from that, he wanted to know what had become of Dick.
And, for the life of him, he didn