pointing to the nearly closed door
of a small barn.

It might have been that the woman was purposely deceiving him, to aid
the fugitive, but to that suspicion Jack had no time to give thought.
He sprang into the barn to find it empty. He stood there, panting, for
a moment, growing sick at heart with disappointment.

Then he heard a slight rustling on a haymow overhead, that was reached
only by a ladder. Up that ladder rushed the submarine boy, springing
into the hay.

As he did so, the well-dressed fugitive darted out from cover at another
point in the mow, leaping straight down to the floor. After him sprang
Jack Benson, and landed full upon him.

But the fugitive, by a supreme effort fear, rose, shaking off the boy,
and started to dart out into the open.

"No, you don't--Mr. Arthur Miller!" roared the submarine boy, making
a bound after him.

So much force did Jack put into that leap that, missing, he fell to the
floor on his hands and knees. The moment thus gained for the fugitive
was enough to give the latter time to dart out, slamming the door shut
after him.

"This chase doesn't stop until it turns out my way!" muttered young
Benson, doggedly. He had expected to find the door secured, but it was
not. He yanked it open.

The fugitive was crossing the yard, just reaching the alley, when the
same woman who had first spoken to Jack again opened her door. In one
hand she held a mop. This she threw with such aim or luck that it
passed between the running man's legs, tripping him.

And then Jack Benson piled upon him in earnest, first snatching up the
mop and brandishing it over the fugitive's head.

"I don't want to hurt your cranium any," flared up Captain Jack. "But
I'm going to do it if I have to."

"Confound you, woman!" roared the discomfited rascal.

"Arthur Miller's voice!" cried Jack, joyously. "Now, I know what we
had only guessed so far! Now, see here, my fine fellow, you might as
well give in, for I'm not going to quit until I land you--"

Miller had been lying quietly enough for a few moments. Now, however,
he suddenly squirmed about, catching Jack by the ankles with both hands.
Down went the submarine boy, flopped by a trick that he had little
expected.

"We'll see whether you've got me!" clicked the scoundrel, leaping to
his feet and making for the street.

"Thank you for your mop, ma'am," Jack called back, pantingly, as he
gave chase. It annoyed him to have Miller prove