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The hands on the clock in the hearing room of the French consulate showed fifteen minutes of four. Seated in the first of the row of benches which lined the room were Herman Dietz and Specks Cade. Dietz wore a satisfied smile on his face. Things were going fine. Just fine. Fifteen more minutes, and Brom Zook’s claim would be worthless, voided by the expiration of the ninety-day time limit.

Specks’s feelings were just the opposite of Dietz’s. He was nervous. He kept shifting back and forth on the bench, looking at the entrance, watching the clock.

Ten minutes of four.

The claims referee finished some business with the only other person left in the room. He looked down from his bench at Dietz.

“You have business with the Claims Division?”

“Yes, sir. I have a claim to file.”

“Then let’s have it. It grows late,” the referee said impatiently.

“I will when it becomes four o’clock,” Dietz said. “It would not be proper for me to file my claim when there is still time for my friend Brom Zook to appear to ask for his.”

The referee looked down at the paper in front of him. He picked it up.

“Oh, yes. Brom Zook. I have it here.” He glanced at the clock.

Five minutes to four.

A dead silence came over the hearing room. Three men kept their eyes on the clock. Even Dietz fidgeted somewhat as the minute hand came nearer and nearer to the hour hand. Only three minutes and he would win.

The sound of feet striding briskly and firmly came from the rear of the room. Dietz swung around. His face went white. His heart pounded. It couldn’t be. It was impossible! Derek Zook was a prisoner guarded by Crunch. Crunch was a simple-minded soul, but a powerful man. Derek Zook couldn’t have escaped!

Biff Brewster came striding down the aisle.

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