"We mustn't lose them."
"No, and we don't want them to get suspicious either."
"They're turning another corner," exclaimed Bob after a few moments.
"Speed it up now that they can't see us."
Bob did so and they came to the corner just in time to see the car they
were following pull up at the curb in front of a white stucco house.
"Go ahead, Bob! Go ahead!" urged Hugh. "Don't turn!"
Bob kept straight on. "What street was that?" he asked.
"Elm Street."
"Isn't that where the German on the bridge told Harold he lived?"
"Why so it is," exclaimed Hugh.
"I wonder what number that house is."
"I don't know. Let's see, Howard Seeley lives on Elm Street, just the
next block down; his number is eleven hundred and something."
"The German told Harold he lived at twelve eighty-two, and I'll bet you
that was the house."
"Whew!" whistled Hugh. "I wonder if it was."
"They probably went to find out why the bridge wasn't blown up to-night,"
said Bob. "Do you suppose that could be it?"
"Maybe.
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