Five Mile Beach weekly journal., 1918-03-22

commenced q painful struggle up the
ascent. Milky moved behind his col
umn, and waited. Up and up, weary
step after weary step. The shadowy
figure, coming close, took a form, be-
came a man-became Peter Niburg.
Now, indeed, Milky reused. Beaten
and sore1y bruised, Peter Niburg
should have been in bed. What
stealthy business of the night brought
him out?
Fortunately for Nikky's hiding place,
the last step or two proved too much
for the spy. He groaned, and sat
down painfully, near the top. His
head lolled forward, and he supported
1t on two shaking hands. Thus he sat,
huddled and miserable, for five min
utes or thereabouts. The chime rang
out the hour.
At ten minutes past the hour, Milky
heard the engine of an automobile.
No machine came in sight, but the
throbbing kept on, from which he
judged that a car had been stopped
around the corner. Peter Niburg heard
it, and rose. A moment later a man,
with the springiness of youth, mounted
the steps and confronted the messen-
ger.
Milky saw a great light. When
Peter Niburg put his hand to his
breast pocket, there was no longer
room for doubt, nor, for that matter,
time for thinking. AS a matter of
fact, never afterward could Milky re-
call thinking at all. He moved away
quietly, hidden by the shadows Of the
%colonnade. Behind him, on the steps,
the two men were talking. Absorbed
In themselves and their business, they
neither heard nor saw the figure that
| slipped through the colonnade, and
dropped, a blood curdling drop, from
the high end of 1t to the street be-
low.
Nikky's first impulse, beside the car,
was to cut a tire. By getting his OPP
ponent into a STOPPING position, over
the damaged wheel, it would be easier
to overcome him. But a hasty search
revealed that he had lost his knife In
the melee. And second thought gave
him a better plan. After all, to get
the letter was not everything. To
know it's destination would be impor-
tant. He had no time to think fur
Their. The messenger was coming
down the steps, not stealthily, but clat-
tering, with the ring of nails in the
heels of heavy boots.
Milky flung his long length into the
4opnoan op1 fhora arnuohad II uuoc
dark enough to conceal him, but Mix
ky's was a large body in a small place.
However, the chauffeur only glanced
at the car, kicked a tire with a prac-
ticed foot, and got In.
He headed for the open country.
Very soon his passenger knew that he
was in for a long ride possibly, a cold
ride certainly. Within the city limits
the car moved decorously, but when
the suburbs were reached, the driver
put on all his power. He drove care
fully, too, as one who must make haste
but cannot afford accident.
Milky grew very uncomfortable.
His long legs ached. The place be-
tween the shoulders where the con
cierge had landed his powerful blows
throbbed and beat. Also he was
puzzled, and he hated being puzzled.
He was unarmed, too. He disliked
that most of all.
After a time he raised his head. He
made out that they were going east,
toward the mountains, and he cursed
the luck that had left his revolver at
home. Still he had no plan but to
watch. Two hours ride, at their pres
ent rate, would take them over the
border and into Karnia.
With a %squealing of brakes the ma
chine drew up at the frontier. Here
was a chain across the highway, with