"Connie Tipton," said Luke to Billy, "says that that German spy has been hiding in the basement but has slipped up-stairs--" The hoarse whisper dropped lower at this point and Louise could not catch the words which followed. She guessed darkly, however, and clung to her desk tighter and tighter. At that fateful moment the substitute looked up and said: "Children, the others have all gone, and it looks like rain again, so I am going to dismiss you. File out quietly--I don't wish to have to call you back." She did not rise from her seat to marshal them out, taking care that the last one of them was out of sight of the schoolhouse before he slackened his pace. She merely dropped her eyes to her writing again and left them practically to their own devices. The boys marched through the cloaking-room first, and they were ominously quiet about it. Then the little girls rose and filed out. Louise led the girls' line, but though she followed swiftly in the wake of the boys, they had disappeared off the face of the earth when she reached the cloaking-room door which opened into the hall. They had slipped off to hunt for Rudolph Kreisler, and Louise knew it. She hoped that Rudolph had left the building, but she was not sure. Something must be done--but _what_? Just then she caught from above the sound of tiptoeing and whispering. It was dishonorable to "tattle," but it wasn't dishonorable to fly after a set of lawless boys and keep them from abusing an innocent would-be American. Louise deserted the head of her line and darted up the long stairs. It was like a frightful nightmare--the stealthy, breathless chase which followed. She could not stop the boys in their mad search, could not command their attention a moment to explain. In and out they darted--fourth-grade, fifth-grade, sixth-grade, seventh! Every crack and cranny, every cloaking-room and teacher's desk was made to prove its innocence of sheltering the fugitive spy. The scampering boys were just finishing their search of the seventh grade when Louise found herself at the foot of the garret steps. She stopped and surveyed their boxed-up secretiveness. What if Rudolph had gone up there? From the sounds of disappointment now issuing from the seventh grade she knew that the last schoolroom to be searched had not yielded up the quarry. Yes, Rudolph must be in the garret, and of course the boys would pursue him there! Then a sudden idea came to her. If she could but reach Rudolph first she might help him to climb out of the garret window. Up the dark steps she flew, but, alas! there were flying feet to follow! The others had seen, and were coming after. They caught up with her before she reached the top, and she and they burst into the long garret room together. It was big with mystery--that long garret place--and weirdly frightening with its half-lights and whole shadows. For one moment the children stood at pause before its awesome silence. No German spy was in sight.