He made one final attempt. He called the college, asking for Meinzer, to find that nobody even knew the name! He knew they were lying--but he could do nothing about that. Maybe it was only because of the publicity--or maybe because someone or something had gotten to them first! * * * * * Fear was growing with him as he came out on the street. He ducked into a crowd, and headed slowly into a corner drug store, trying to seem inconspicuous, but the fear mounted. They were near--they would get him! Run, GO! He fought it down, and found that it was weakened, either by his becoming used to it or because the urgency was less than it had been. He ducked into a phone-booth and called the newspaper, keeping his eye on both entrances to the store. It seemed to take forever to locate the proper man there, but finally he had his connection. "Meinzer," the voice said, with a curious doubtfulness. "Oh, yeah. Mister, that story's dead! Call up...." The telephone melted slowly, dropping into a little cold puddle on the floor! Hawkes had felt the tension mounting, and he was prepared for anything. Now he found himself on the street, darting across Forty-second Street against the light, without even remembering having left the booth. He stole a quick glance back, to see people staring at him with open mouths. He thought he saw a slim figure in gray tweeds, but he couldn't be sure--and there were probably thousands of such men in New York. He ducked into a bank, wormed his way around the various aisles, and out the back entrance. A cab was waiting there, and he held out a bill. "I'm late, buddy. Penn Station!" The cab-driver took the bill and the hint, and darted out, just as the light was changing. Penn Station was as good a place to try to get lost from pursuit as any. Hawkes examined his wallet, considering trying to get a train out--but he'd used up nearly all he had taken from Ellen. And all his careful disguise had proved useless. They weren't fooled--and this business of dodging was wearing thin. By now, they'd know his habits! He drew out a coin, flipping it. It came up heads. He frowned, but there was nothing else to do. He moved down the ramp toward the subway that would carry him back to Sixty-sixth and Broadway. He was probably walking into their trap by now, but the coin was right. He had to free Ellen. If they got him, it couldn't be much worse for him. Then he shuddered. He couldn't know whether it would be worse for his country, or even his world. He couldn't really know anything. V It was growing dark as he walked down Sixty-sixth, eyeing every man suspiciously, and knowing his suspicion would do no good. He was still trying to think, though he knew his thoughts were as useless as his suspicions.