He exerted all the strength of his leg, arm, and trunk muscles. The pain from his broken arm was a sickening thing but slowly the leather bands began to tear loose from the rivets that held them. A last mighty exertion and he was free. Wagner had a private elevator. Buckmaster entered and went to a ground floor. He walked out of the building through a tradesmen's entrance into a dusky alley. Keeping his good arm in front of his face he staggered around the corner and into a drugstore and reached a phone booth without being observed. He put in a call and crouched in the phone booth for the ten long minutes it took Oliver to come for him. "Two weeks aren't very long to get you well, Clifford," Oliver said, "but I'm afraid it's all the time we have. I'm sorry." "You did your best," Buckmaster answered, "At least you've got me pretty well patched up." "The last reports were that the police have drawn a ring around this district, and that they're closing in." "Do we have any way out?" "I hate to have to say this," Oliver said slowly. "But the rest of us can get out--if we don't take you with us." * * * * * Buckmaster had expected this. It seemed that he had known from the beginning that he would never live to see the end of this adventure. "It's all right. Is there anything I can do to help?" "No. They won't stop us if you aren't along. You're the man they're after. If there were any way I could help you by staying, I'd never leave. But I'd only be captured with you, and nothing gained." "Of course I understand." Buckmaster rested his hand for a moment on the old leader's shoulder. "Don't feel badly about it, Lester. The men need you. You owe it to them to get out if you can." Oliver gripped his hand. "Before I go I want you to know how grateful we are for the help you've given us. Without Wagner the General won't be nearly as hard to handle. And one other thing: I don't want you to hope too much, but there's still a chance we may be able to get you out. I'm trying a long shot. So if someone comes for you, go with him. In the meantime, keep your chin up." They shook hands again. Buckmaster surmised that Oliver was trying to give him something to cling to while he waited for the end. Then he was alone. Three hours later Buckmaster spotted the first of his executioners: One of the Ruskies that walked with studied unconcern across the street. Almost at the same time he heard a rap on the rear door of the apartment. He drew the gun Oliver had left with him and walked slowly to the door. "Who is it?" "Oliver sent me for you," the voice on the other side of the door answered. "Come in with your hands up." Buckmaster flattened himself against a side wall and shoved his gun into the ribs of a tall young man. "Who are you?" "My name is August Gamoll," the man said. Somehow the name was familiar. He should recognize it, Buckmaster thought. Abruptly he did.