Ahead of them at the end of the block, glowed
the only street lamp visible. Sexton, by now largely recovered from his
late experiences, broke into a run, with West following closely behind.
Both were eager to escape from the immediate neighbourhood unseen.
Suddenly Sexton stumbled, but arose almost instantly to his feet again,
grasping something which gleamed like silver in his hand.
"Not hurt, are you?" asked West anxiously.
"No; what's this I found?"
The other took it impatiently.
"What is it? Why a small pocket knife, of course. Come on, man, don't
stand mooning there." He slipped the article carelessly into his pocket.
"Let's get out into the open while the road is clear."
"Where are you going?" Sexton panted, endeavouring to keep beside him.
"Have you anything planned out?"
"Not very much; Milwaukee Avenue first. There is sure to be an all-night
restaurant somewhere in sight. Telephone for a taxi, don't dare to risk a
street car, we both look too tough."
"Suppose they will follow us?"
"Hardly; they will have no idea which way we went, or how long we'll have
been gone. All Hobart will think about now will be getting out of sight
himself. Once we turn off this street, we'll be safe enough."
It was considerably past midnight when the two men finally reached the
University Club; they had lunched at an all-night restaurant, washed and
made themselves as presentable as possible, yet were hardly recognizable
as they entered the Club lobby.
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