Despite the circumstances, Dick had a brief feeling of mirth at the ludicrous appearance of his comrade, who led the chase with such well-simulated zeal and a face still circumscribed by the white cloth used to keep in place the bandage on his cheek. Determined to resist capture to the last, now that he had adopted the course of flight, Dick plunged forward and on past Trinity Church. Broadway was not then a business street, and the few people whom Dick passed or who emerged from the residences or cross streets did not know what was the matter until it was too late to head him off, so great a start he had of his pursuers. Before he had reached St. Paul's Church, he looked back again, whereupon Tom, with his hand before his body so that the pursuers behind him could not see it, motioned to turn off into the next cross street. Dick obeyed, and was thus for a time lost to the sight of the party in chase. Presently the loud voice of Tom showed that he, too, had deviated into the cross street. Dick turned his head and saw that Tom was the only one who had yet done so. MacAlister now violently gesticulated to the effect that Dick should turn into some yard or other hiding-place. Dick immediately ran through the open gateway of what proved to be a yard used as a repository for tan. He took refuge behind a high pile of this article, and sank to the ground, breathless and half-exhausted. There was no one else in the tan-yard. As he lay panting, he heard Tom stride by, still hoarsely bawling, "Stop that man!" The direction taken by the voice indicated that its owner had turned from this street into another, and soon the sound of the crowd running by was evidence that they had seen Tom make this last turn and had supposed he was still on the trail of the hunted man. Their voices and footsteps died out presently, and Dick was left to ponder on the situation.