Without waiting to see what the others were going to do he dashed off in pursuit of a figure which could be seen scuttling away through the trees. Two of the detectives joined in the race and one of them fired two shots from his pistol at the fugitive. In reply the man suddenly wheeled and shot once at his pursuers. Bob heard the bullet whine past close to his head. He also had caught a fleeting glimpse of the man, and one look was enough to convince him that it was the fake detective with whom he and Hugh had struggled that morning. A moment later the man was out of sight, Hugh and the two detectives still after him, shouting and calling to him to halt. Meanwhile the fire in the house roared and blazed. "She's a goner," said Sergeant Riley. He stood beside Mr. Cook and Bob as they watched the burning building. "I guess she is," remarked Mr. Cook. "There's nothing we can do." "Nothing," agreed the sergeant. "It's not much loss anyway," said Mr. Cook. "No loss at all," exclaimed Bob. "It's a gain if anything, for it makes one less place for spies and plotters to meet in." "But any evidence that might have been in there is destroyed," said Riley. "I never thought of that," said Bob. "That's probably why they burned it." "Was that your detective running off through the woods?" asked the sergeant. "It certainly was," said Bob. "I guess he was one of the gang after all. I suppose they left him behind to watch us." "Then why did he let you get away?" his father replied. "Probably he thought it would create less suspicion," said Sergeant Riley. "He got the paper away from the boys and as long as he thought he could bluff them into thinking he was a detective he thought that was sufficient. On the other hand if he had held them prisoners or anything like that there would have been a search for them and trouble started at once." "I guess that's right," said Mr. Cook soberly. "However, I hope they catch him this time." Suddenly a piercing scream startled them. They glanced up to see a white face at one of the windows of the house. All around, the fire roared and the smoke curled up in great clouds. Before they could see who the man was he had fallen back into the room and disappeared from view. "I'll get him," exclaimed one of the detectives, and without further ado, he sprinted for the burning house. Paying no heed to the warning cries of his comrades he dashed up to the back door and entered, and was soon lost to sight. "That feller Donovan is a dare-devil," exclaimed Sergeant Riley. "He'll stop at nothing. Why should he risk his life for a man that's as good as dead now?" "He'll never come out alive," cried Mr. Cook. "And all for a man who is plotting against the country," echoed Riley. "Here you!" he shouted to the other plain-clothes man. "Keep out of there. The High Ridge police force can't afford to lose more than one man a day." The fourth detective showed signs of wishing to follow his comrade.