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Sealed "HALT! WHO IS THERE? Who is out after curfew?" Leendert Schenderhans! Joris didn't think twice. He kicked his clogs into the bushes and ran. "One of the Verhagen kids, I suppose," Leendert muttered. "Wait till I catch him!" The thought gave extra energy to his legs. Joris was running as fast as his lungs would let him, and thinking furiously. He must not let Schenderhans find out who he was. He had to get home, and yet Leendert must not see him go in. If he was captured, all was up, with that piece of aviator's map in his pocket. The Watchman . . . the Watchman. Joris looked at it in despair. Winged Watchman . . . guardian angel. His breath came in wheezy gasps. He heard Schenderhans' footsteps coming closer. Soon he would not be able to run any more; there was a stitch in his side. Then he saw he was near the moving wings of the mill, dark and vague but unmistakable. He grabbed one of them and jumped on it, melting into its shadow. He had to move fast to keep his head up