“I must ask of someone who is not a Chinese,” thought Larry. “Maybe the Rising Sun is the name of some sort of a club. That’s what I’ll do!” he exclaimed, as he suddenly became possessed of an idea. “I’ll pretend I’m looking for a club of that name, and I’ll ask the first American storekeeper I meet.”
Larry walked slowly along the street. The thoroughfare seemed filled with Celestials, with their wide trousers and wider-sleeved blouses, tramping along in their thick-soled shoes, but there seemed to be a great scarcity of Americans. Looking about him for an establishment kept by someone other than an almond-eyed individual, Larry espied a block or so away, the sign of three golden balls suspended in the air.
“There’s a pawnbroker’s,” thought Larry. “He’s sure to be something else besides a Chinese. I’ll try him.”
Much attracted by the curious sights on every side, Larry proceeded down the street. He looked into the pawnbroker’s shop before entering, but as the glass door was painted, he could discern nothing.
“Well, here goes,” remarked Larry to himself. “We’ll see what sort of information I can get.”
He opened the door softly, and stepped into the place. In front of the counter stood a man who seemed to be bargaining with the pawnbroker over the amount to be loaned on an article. They were so occupied with their business that they did not notice the young reporter’s entrance.
“You ought to give me more than twenty dollars,” the customer was saying.
“Fifteen is all; take it or leave it,” was the pawnbroker’s answer. “It is a cheap ring.”
“But the diamond in the tail is worth more than that,” the man went on, “and the rubies in the eyes are worth twice as much. Come on, now, Isaacs, let me have twenty dollars, that’s a good fellow. I’m hard up, and the gang is up against bad luck.”
Something seemed to tell Larry he was on the track of those whom he sought, but for an instant he could not fathom what it was. There seemed to be a clew in the mention of a diamond in the tail and rubies in the eyes.
“I know!” the young reporter thought, almost exclaiming aloud in his excitement. “It’s the ring Mr. Reynolds told me about. The one that was stolen from him, and which he wished to recover because it was an heirloom.”
He drew a little closer to where the man was standing, hoping to get a look at the jewel. Nor was he disappointed. The pawnbroker, who had apparently made his last offer, handed something to the customer. The latter’s hand shook so he dropped the article on the floor, and it rolled almost to Larry’s feet. The lad picked it up. He saw that it was a ring, made in the shape of a snake, with three coils. In the end of the tail was a diamond, and the eyes were formed of rubies. It was exactly like the ornament Mr. Reynolds had described.
Larry’s heart was beating so he was afraid the men would hear it. However, he managed to hand the ring back to the customer, who was too much engrossed in the transaction to notice Larry.
“Well, Isaacs,” the man remarked, handing the ring over to the pawnbroker, “I’ll take the fifteen dollars, but it’s little enough. I’ll be getting it out again in a few days. Make out the ticket.”
Larry walked back to the door while the broker was concluding the transaction. He wondered what he had better do. Here was a chance to get on the track of the Reynolds jewel robbers, but to accomplish this he would have to give up, for a time, the search after his brother.
“Unless the two gangs should prove to be one and the same,” thought Larry, with a sudden inspiration. “I wonder if that couldn’t be so. The safe-robbers and the kidnappers are all together; why not the jewel thieves? I think I’ll chance it, anyhow. I’ll follow this man, and see if I can’t find out where he stays. I can find out about the Rising Sun place later.”
With this in mind, Larry softly slipped out of the door, and stationed himself in a nearby hallway, to stay until the man came from the pawn-shop. He had not long to wait, for in a few minutes the man emerged, and the young reporter set off after him.
Larry had never had much experience in “shadowing” people, as the detectives call following a man, and not letting him know he is under surveillance. But the lad had often gone hunting when in the country, and had learned how to track wild animals. Of course, it was different in the city, but some of the principles held true.
Letting the man who had pawned the ring get about half a block ahead, Larry started after him. The fellow did not seem to be on the lookout, but walked on rapidly, paying no attention to persons or objects he passed in the street.
Through several thoroughfares in Chinatown the chase led, until Larry finally found himself in the very worst section of that very bad part of New York. The buildings were old and tumbledown, and in spite of the sunlight overhead, it seemed dark and gloomy.
The man came to a pause in front of a certain house. He looked all about him, and Larry saw his glance in time to dodge into a hallway. Then the man disappeared into the building. Larry glided forward, and was about to follow him, when from the place several Chinese leaped out, yelling shrilly.
At the same time a fusillade of revolver shots rang out, and the yells increased. All at once it seemed that the street was full of Chinese.
“Crack! Crack! Crack!”
Those were the revolvers barking, and spitting fire.
“Hi! Ki! Yi! Yee! Yip!”
That was the frightened Celestials singing out. Those who were not yelling like cats and dogs combined, were firing revolvers. They seemed to have no object in view except to fire, shutting their eyes, and pulling the trigger, while the weapon was aimed in any and all directions.
One of those sudden and inexplainable shooting affairs for which Chinatown is noted, and which are precipitated by secret society hatreds, was on.
From around the corner of the street, as if by magic, appeared another band of Chinese. They began firing at the throng that poured from the building where the man who had pawned the snake ring, had entered. Larry dodged into a doorway, out of reach of any stray bullets.
Little damage seemed to be done by the shooting, as the Celestials fired without any particular aim. Yet one or two were hit by the bullets, and ran about the streets howling with pain.
The riot had been in progress about two minutes before any police arrived. Then a squad of them swung into the thoroughfare, and with drawn clubs sprang into the midst of the mob of Chinese. The stout sticks thumped on many a pigtailed head, and soon the yells of rage were turned into shouts of dismay.
The shooting died away, and the Orientals scampered like rats back to their holes. Two or three who had received bullets in their legs, were lying in the middle of the street. Then came a couple of patrol wagons and an ambulance, into which the wounded were lifted, and quick trips made to hospitals. The police took several prisoners, who were taken to the station-house, and then—the street became quiet again.
Save for a few revolvers which the owners had thrown away, there remained no sign of the riot, and Larry could hardly believe that he had witnessed it. It seemed like a dream.
“I must telephone the paper about it,” he thought. “Then I’ll keep on after that man.”
Noting the address of the house into which the pawner of the ring had vanished, Larry went back to the Bowery, where he found a public telephone, and was soon in communication with Mr. Emberg.
“You stay where you are until I can send one of the reporters down to see you,” the city editor said. “You can tell him what happened, and he can write the story. Then you can go on with your hunt. I hope you’ll succeed. Do you need any help?”
“I guess I can get along for a while yet,” answered Larry. “I only want to locate a certain place, and then I’ll get Mr. Newton to advise me.”
He waited in the telephone station until the reporter from theLeaderarrived. Then, accompanied by him, Larry went back to Chinatown. The other reporter got a lot of information about the riot, and, with what Larry had told him, soon had enough for a good lively story.
“Now here goes to see what’s in that house,” murmured Larry, when the reporter had left him. “I hope I get on the track of the Rising Sun. I wonder what it means, anyhow.”
Not without some little fear did he enter the dark hallway. It was not a pleasant place. There were odd and noisome smells, for the place, like most of those in Chinatown, was more or less of an opium joint. Then there was the odor of the Joss sticks burning in a sort of improvised temple in the rear of the first floor.
Up the stairs Larry went. He hardly knew what he was going to do, nor, if he was questioned by anyone, did he know what he would say. He was trusting to luck. As he passed through the dimly-lighted halls a door would open here and there, and the head of a Chinese would be poked out. But the portal was quickly closed again when the owner of the head saw it was an American youth.
After a riot such as had just transpired, the Chinese had no desire to answer embarrassing questions such as they knew the Americans asked. The Americans were too curious, the Celestials thought. So it was best to stay in one’s room, and pretend not to hear or see anything. Thus Larry was not interfered with or molested, as he might have been on another occasion.
Though he had no definite object in view, Larry had an idea he might chance on some evidence as to where the man lived who had pawned the ring, or might discover some trace of the sign of the Rising Sun. He looked about on the walls and doors of the halls. There were many devices painted thereon. Dragons, snakes, strange birds, and grinning heads.
“I guess I’ll go back and tell Mr. Newton,” thought Larry. “He’ll know how to go about this better than I do.”
However, there remained the third and top floor hall to inspect, and Larry climbed the stairs to that. He walked from the front to the rear.
“Nothing here, I guess,” he murmured.
Then, with a sudden beating of his heart, he caught sight, on the door of a room at the end of the corridor, of a crudely-painted rising sun, with red and yellow rays radiating from it, as it was coming up from behind a mountain.
“This must be the place!” exclaimed the young reporter under his breath.
The next instant he heard from behind the door a cry as of someone in pain or distress, and to Larry the voice sounded like that of his kidnapped brother.
“I wonder—I wonder if Jimmy can be in there!” he gasped.
Once more the stifled cry sounded, and Larry’s heart almost stopped beating. He was sure he had found his brother. He sprang forward, and rapped loudly on the door. Instantly there sounded a shuffling of feet from behind the portal. Then all grew still.
“Let me in!” cried Larry.
He paused for a reply. Then he knocked again, and kicked with his feet on the door, but no one answered, and the sturdy oaken portal was not opened. Larry was much excited. He wanted to break down the barrier, and see what was beyond it. He wanted to rush in, and, if his brother was there, to tear him away from the men who had kidnapped him.
“I’d better go for help,” Larry said to himself, at length. “I can’t do anything alone. Anyhow, I’ve located the Rising Sun crowd. I’d better not make too much of a fuss, or they’ll suspect I’m after them, and move away.”
He hurried downstairs, wishing he could find Mr. Newton at once, instead of waiting until night, when the older reporter had promised Larry to call at the Dexter house.
“I suppose he’s trailing the end from the sign of the blue hand,” thought Larry.
He had half a mind to see if he could not locate the gang’s former headquarters, but he feared that the quest might lead him into trouble. Also, he did not want to spoil any plans Mr. Newton had made.
“I guess the only thing I can do is to wait until to-night,” mused Larry, “though I hate to go home without good news, no matter how little.”
But he knew it was the best thing to do, and he was soon at his house, relating to his mother and Lucy what he had experienced.
“Do you really think he’s there?” asked Mrs. Dexter.
“I’m almost certain,” replied Larry. “Just you wait, mother. I’m sure we’ll have Jimmy before another day goes by.”
“I only wish I could believe so,” remarked Mrs. Dexter, wiping the tears from her eyes.
In the meanwhile, Mr. Newton had gone to the former headquarters of the gang that had rooms behind the door with the blue hand on it. As he feared, the place was deserted, and no one in the neighborhood knew anything about where the former occupants had gone, or, if they did, they would not tell. In Chinatown it is the policy of the inhabitants to relate just as little as they can.
With all his reporter’s experience in tracing matters, with all the skill which long association with the police and detectives had given him, Mr. Newton sought to locate some member of the blue-handed gang to learn where their headquarters were now. But all to no avail. Even the advertisement Larry had inserted, agreeing to sign the deed, was not answered.
“I hope Larry is having better luck than I am,” mused the reporter. “I’m beat, I’m afraid. Guess I’ll drop in here, and get a cigar. Maybe it will help me to think of some plan I haven’t tried yet.”
There was a tobacco store nearby, and going in, Mr. Newton purchased something to smoke. While the proprietor was getting the change Mr. Newton’s attention was attracted to the sound of voices in a rear room.
“If one of them isn’t Alderman Beacham and the other Samuel Snyder, that rascally lawyer, I’m very much mistaken,” thought Mr. Newton. “I wonder what they’re having a confab in here for? Up to some political trick, I suppose, and they’re afraid to talk it over at City Hall.”
He could not help overhearing some of the things that were said, and as the words came to him he gave a sudden start.
“So that’s the game, eh?” he murmured. “No wonder they want that deed. By the Great Horn Spoon! but I think I’m on the right track now!”
By this time the proprietor returned with the change, but Mr. Newton was in no hurry to go. He pretended he wanted to buy a pipe, and, while examining the cigar-dealer’s stock, he kept his ears open for anything more that might issue from the rear room. He could only catch a stray word now and again, but what he heard gave him much satisfaction.
Finally he made a selection of a pipe, and paid for it. Leaving the store he hurried off, a smile displacing the former discouraged look his face had worn.
“I wonder why I never thought of that before!” he exclaimed, softly. “That’s what the Aldermanic Committee has been meeting in secret so often for. That’s the reason they would never admit that any business was done. My! but this is going to be a big thing! I can see a fine story in it, and maybe a beat. I can see something good for Larry, too, and if it doesn’t bring his brother back, and land some people in jail, I’m going to miss my guess,” and Mr. Newton felt so elated over the discovery he had accidentally made that he felt like hopping and skipping along the street. Thinking that would hardly be in keeping with the dignity of a reporter, however, he fell to whistling to relieve his spirits, and warbled forth tuneful strains from a comic opera, as being most appropriate.
“Now to see Larry, and tell him the good news,” thought Mr. Newton. “We’ll have to make careful plans to close in on the gang. The only thing lacking is to know where they are, but with what I know I’ll have no trouble finding them. Whoop! I feel like a boy again!”
He went to the Dexter home, where, though he did not expect it, he found Larry. It was late in the afternoon, and Mr. Newton was tired with his quest.
“Any news?” he asked Larry.
“A little. How about you?”
“Everything we could wish for. Larry, my boy, I think we’ve got ’em. We’ll nab ’em inside of two days.”
“And will you get Jimmy back?” asked Mrs. Dexter.
“The first thing!” exclaimed Mr. Newton.
Then he and Larry told each other their experiences, and prepared their plans for closing in on the gang. They could not imagine why there was no answer to the personal they had inserted, but, as it afterward developed, none of the gang had seen it, not counting on it being put in so soon after the kidnapping.
Jimmy, who had fretted all day, cried so much the second night of his captivity that Peter and Noddy were much alarmed. They tried their best to comfort the lad, but he continued to weep, and demanded to be taken to his mother and Larry.
“Can’t you amuse him in some way?” the blue-handed man asked of Peter.
“I’ve done my best,” replied the former copy boy. “He’s homesick, that’s what’s the matter.”
“And small blame to him,” put in Noddy. “It’s a bad business all around, and I’m worried over how we’ll come out of it. If the kid keeps on crying there’ll be talk in the neighborhood, and that may lead to an investigation. Besides he’ll make himself sick, and we’ll have to send for a doctor. That would give the game away.”
“We can get a Chink doctor,” spoke Peter.
“Yes, and have him give the kid some ground-up snails, or pieces of birds’ nests,” exclaimed Noddy. “No, sir, no Chinese quack is going to monkey with the lad. If we have to have a doctor we’ll get a good one, even though it spoils the game. I’m not going to be responsible for the lad’s taking a bad turn, and maybe dying.”
“Do you think there’s any danger?” asked Peter, who was beginning to wish he had never had anything to do with the gang.
“You can never tell what kids are going to do. Wait, I’ll try to tell him a story. I used to be quite a hand at it when—when my youngster was alive,” and Noddy gulped down a hard lump in his throat. Bad as he was, he still had a tender spot in his heart for his dead child.
“Come on, Jimmy,” the blue-handed man said to the captive. “I’m going to tell you about a bear.”
“Can’t you tell me about a giant?” demanded the lad.
“Well, I guess so,” and then Noddy related a tale about a big giant who used to keep his captives in a terrible castle.
“You’re a sort of giant, ain’t you?” asked Jimmy of Noddy.
“No. What makes you ask that?”
“Because you’ve got hands like Blue Beard, and you keep me here, and won’t let me go home.”
“No, I’m not quite as bad as that,” said Noddy, “but I’m bad enough, the land knows. I’d let you go home if I could. Maybe we can, to-morrow or next day. I wish Larry would give in to the gang, or else come here and take the kid,” the blue-handed man muttered, in a low tone.
It required several stories before Jimmy could be comforted, and made to forget his troubles. He fell asleep under the influence of a fine big Chinese drum that the blue-handed man promised would be given him the next day.
“Well, I’m glad he’s in slumberland,” remarked Noddy, as he covered Jimmy up in bed. “I couldn’t stand this very long.”
That evening several members of the gang came in, and Noddy laid the case before them.
“It’s all right for you fellows,” he said, “but you don’t have to stay here all day and amuse the kid, and keep him from crying for his mother. If I only had to go out and do things the way you do I wouldn’t mind it.”
“Well, you’ll have to stay shut up for a while longer, on account of your hands,” remarked Perkins. “It can’t be very long now. I wouldn’t wonder but there’d be a personal in to-morrow morning’s papers, saying Larry and his mother had agreed to sign the deed. That will end the whole matter.”
“Well, I only hope it does,” growled Noddy. “It’s the last trick of this kind you get me into.”
“Brace up!” exclaimed Perkins. “You’re a little down in the mouth now. When you get your share out of the deal you’ll be satisfied. I guess the game is almost up now. There should have been a personal in before this.” But fate had so ordered that the one Larry and Mr. Newton inserted was not seen.
“Suppose you don’t hear from Larry?” asked Noddy.
“If we don’t inside of three days,” answered Perkins, “we’re going ahead on a brand-new plan.”
“What is it?”
“We’ll simply condemn the land, and then we’ll get it for almost nothing. Only that process is a little slow, and we’re in a hurry. Snyder and Beacham had a talk on the matter somewhere to-day, I understand, and decided the thing could be kept secret no longer. The news will be out in a week at the most, so whatever is done must be done quickly.”
The men talked over various other matters, and then, as the hour was growing late, they departed, leaving Peter and Noddy in charge of Jimmy.
“Better turn in,” advised the blue-handed man to Peter.
“Guess I will,” said the former copy boy. “I’m going to get up early, and get a morning paper to see if Larry has put a personal in.”
While he was getting ready for bed Noddy went in to look at Jimmy. He found the lad’s face wet with tears.
“Poor little chap,” remarked Noddy. “I wish I was out of this game.”
Then he, too, went to bed, and there was silence in the headquarters of the Rising Sun gang, broken only by the breathing of the sleepers. Outside the hum and confusion of Chinatown went on in the semi-darkness.
Meanwhile Larry and Mr. Newton had been planning away. They had told each other their experiences, and Mr. Newton was glad to learn that Larry had located the headquarters of the gang.
“I can’t understand the man from the pawn-shop going in there, however,” commented the older reporter. “He may be mixed up with the gang, but it hardly seems possible that the jewel robbers, the safe-crackers, and the kidnappers are all members of one organization. However, if it’s so, so much the better.”
“Why?”
“Because we’ll bag them all at once, and kill two or three birds with one stone. Now let’s see what we’d better do first.”
“Did you ever hear of the Rising Sun gang,” asked Larry.
“Many times. They’re about as bad as any crowd that infests New York.”
“Why not get a lot of police officers, and raid the place?” suggested Larry.
“It would be all right if we could guard every entrance,” said Mr. Newton. “But they have half a dozen, and they’d be sure to escape through one or the other.”
“How are you going to do it, then?”
“I think we’ll resort to a little strategy,” said the older reporter. “We’ll insert another personal, directed to the blue-handed man, asking where we can go to sign the deed. They evidently missed that first one. It was put in before they expected it.”
“But do you really want me to sign the deed?” asked Larry.
“Not for the world. We’ll simply ask them where we can meet them to sign it. We’re not promising to do what they want. I’ll write the advertisement out now, and we can put it in all the morning papers.”
“After that, what?”
“We’ll wait for an answer, and then we’ll be guided by what occurs next.”
So the advertisement, carefully worded, was prepared, and Mr. Newton took it to an agent who made a business of inserting notices in all the New York papers.
When this had been done it was evening, and, as there seemed to be little chance of accomplishing anything more that night, Mr. Newton advised Larry to go to bed and get a good night’s sleep.
“Perhaps I’d better stay around in the neighborhood of the gang’s headquarters,” suggested Larry. “They might take Jimmy away during the night.”
“Not much danger of that,” replied Mr. Newton. “If they wanted to smuggle him away, all the watching you could do would not stop it. The best way is to let them think they’re safe, and that we know nothing about them. They probably will do nothing for a few more days.”
So the same night that Jimmy, in Noddy’s room, cried himself to sleep, Larry went to bed in his own home, his head full of thoughts of the rescue he hoped would soon be accomplished.
The next morning Peter went out early, and got several papers. He and Noddy carefully scanned the personal columns, and among the first items that met their eyes was the advertisement Larry and Mr. Newton had inserted.
“Here it is!” cried Noddy. “He’s come to terms at last. I’m glad of it, for I want to see the kid taken home. Now, Peter, you hurry off, and tell as many members of our society as you can find to come here at once, and we’ll decide on a plan of action.”
Making a hasty breakfast Peter left the Rising Sun room, and soon had delivered Noddy’s message to several members of the gang. They were surprised at the news, but agreed to come to headquarters and talk the matter over, also to decide what would be best to do.
While Jimmy was kept in one of the rear rooms, amused over the big Chinese drum which Noddy had borrowed for him from the little Oriental theater nearby, the members of the organization held a consultation.
“I say, let him come here,” suggested Perkins. “We can do the thing here better than anywhere else. Let him bring his mother’s consent in writing, to his signing the deed, and let her send a note agreeing that she will sign it later on. Then let Larry come here alone. Send him a note stating that he will be watched from the time he leaves his house until he gets here. If he stops to speak to anyone, or if he brings anyone with him, the fact will be immediately telephoned to us, and the whole thing will be off.”
“Meaning what?” asked Noddy.
“Meaning that we’ll hide the kid where he’ll never be found.”
“No, you don’t!” exclaimed Noddy.
“That’s all right, Noddy,” spoke Randall, in soothing tones. “There’ll be no doubt but that Larry will agree to the terms. If he doesn’t we’ll not hurt the kid. I’m just as fond of him as you are. Don’t make trouble now.”
“Well, I’ll agree, as long as nothing bad happens to the little fellow,” stipulated the blue-handed man.
So it was arranged, and a note, making all the conditions specified, was sent to Larry.
The note was delivered by mail to Larry the following day. It named Friday, two days hence, as the time, and one o’clock in the afternoon, as the hour.
“Well, that’s the best time to have it happen,” remarked Mr. Newton, when shown the missive. “But there are some things that are going to make it hard.”
“What makes you say the hour is a good one?” asked Larry.
“Because, if we arrange matters right, we can raid ’em in time for the last edition of theLeader, and get a beat.”
“That’s so; I didn’t think about that part of it,” Larry remarked. “I was only anxious about Jimmy. But what is going to make it hard?”
“Well, I didn’t count on them taking so many precautions,” answered the older reporter. “I thought you and I could go together, and I figured on being able to have several detectives stationed near by ready to break into the place, as soon as I gave the signal. But now it’s got to be done differently.
“If they see you start for their place with anyone they’ll spirit Jimmy away, and probably hide him where we’ll never find him. So you’ll have to go to the place alone.”
“I’m not afraid,” observed Larry.
“No, I suppose not, but it upsets my plan. Then again, I wanted to get a sort of preliminary look at the place. From what little I can learn about the Rising Sun gang they have a number of exits at their headquarters. We’ll have to guard them all; but how can we, if we don’t know where to look for them?”
“That’s so,” agreed Larry. “It’s going to be harder than I thought. Couldn’t we get enough police to surround the whole block?”
“We could, but there are two objections to that plan. One is that if we attempt to operate on such a large scale, some hint of our plans will leak out. There are always some leaks in the police department. The other objection is that some of their exits are probably underground, and a man, or several of them, might emerge somewhere in the middle of the next block. No, the only thing to do is to find where all the exits are, and I don’t see how I’m going to do it.”
“I’ve got it!” exclaimed Larry. “There’s Ah Moy, the Chinese who told me about the rising sun sign on the door.”
“Oh, yes; I had forgotten. Well, if we could prevail on him, and he could get us the information, it might do.”
“I’m pretty sure he’d help us, if we paid him,” said Larry. “But I don’t know for sure whether he knows all about the place.”
“We can soon find out,” remarked Mr. Newton. “I’ll see him right away, and offer him a good sum.”
It was several hours before Mr. Newton returned. Larry was anxiously waiting for him, and when the older reporter entered the room in Larry’s house where the planning was going on, Larry burst out with:
“Will Ah Moy do it?”
“He surely will!” said Mr. Newton. “I had to argue with him a good while, though. It seems he is afraid of the gang, as he once belonged to it, but got out of it for some reason or other. But, luckily enough, he knows the layout of the rooms as well as he knows how to read a Chinese laundry ticket, which is no joke. He drew a rough sort of a plan for me, and with that I think I can get ahead of the gang. Now, Larry, I’ll tell you what I think we’d better do. When I get through, if you have anything better to propose, don’t hesitate to say so.
“In the first place, now that I know where all the exits are, and they are seven in number, I can arrange to have a detective placed at each one. Luckily, they are some distance apart, so stationing men in plain clothes at them will not attract attention. As I surmised, there is one exit on a separate block from the one where the building is.
“At the appointed time you’ll start for the gang’s headquarters. You’ll go all alone, but I’ll be close behind you,” went on Mr. Newton.
“Won’t they see you?”
“I think not. For the first time in my life I’m going to disguise myself a bit. I’ll wear a false beard. Well, you’ll enter the room, just as their note tells you. What will happen inside, of course, I can’t say. You’ll have to be governed by circumstances. But don’t be afraid, and don’t forget that help will be near. When you call out I’ll break in the door, and give the signal for the detectives to close in.”
“Maybe you’ll not be able to hear me shout,” Larry suggested. “It’s quite a ways to the street.”
“I’ll be in the hallway,” said Mr. Newton. “But, at the same time, perhaps a revolver shot would be a better signal. You can take a pistol with blank cartridges in it. That will do as well as one with bullets, and then no one will be shot by accident, for, though the gang is bad enough, we don’t want any serious results, if we can help it.”
“Then you’ll come to my aid when I fire one shot?” asked Larry.
“That’s the idea.”
“But how are you going to get into the hallway without being seen? They are going to keep strict watch, I imagine.”
“Leave that to me. Now is there anything you don’t understand, or anything you would change?”
“I guess I understand it all,” spoke Larry, “and I wouldn’t alter a single bit of it. I wish it was time to go now.”
“I don’t,” remarked Mr. Newton, with a laugh. “I’ve got too much to do to have the raid happen until the appointed time. But when that comes, I’ll be ready for it.”
The rest of that day and part of the next Mr. Newton found all too short for what he had to do. He made many trips, and saw a number of persons, taking care to see that he was not followed, especially when he went to police headquarters. One visit he made late at night, and that was to a costumer’s, where he bought a wig and false beard.
On the morning of Friday, the day planned for the raid, Mr. Newton spent some time at City Hall. He was closeted with the mayor and several of the city officials, and the result of his interviews seemed to be satisfactory.
At last the hour arrived when Larry was to set out from his house for the headquarters of the gang. His mother bade him a tearful good-by, and Lucy, as she kissed him, told him she was sure it would all come out right.
If Larry was watched or followed, he was not able to detect it, though he had no doubt the gang had some one of its members “shadowing” him. He reached Chinatown. The streets, as usual, were filled with shuffling Orientals, who seemed to have no particular object in view. Larry looked to see if he could catch a sight of Mr. Newton, or any of the detectives, but none was in sight.
He reached the building, and, with a heart that beat wildly in spite of his efforts to remain calm, he started up the stairs. He felt to see if the revolver was safe in the outside pocket of his coat. Mr. Newton had told him to place it there, and to fire it while the weapon was inside the pocket, since to draw it might cause some hasty action on the part of some member of the gang.
Larry gave a timid tap at the door with the rising sun painted on it. The portal instantly swung back, though no one appeared, and a voice called out:
“Come in, Larry.”
The young reporter entered. He found himself in a sort of corridor, at the end of which was a room, brightly-lighted, in spite of the fact that it was broad daylight outside.
“Go on into the room,” the voice directed, and Larry walked forward.
He found a number of men seated about a table. One wore gloves, and as they were not fastened, Larry had a glimpse of the hands they covered. The skin on them was blue, and Larry knew that at last he had run the blue-handed man to his lair. The others, and there were five of them, glanced sharply at the boy.
“Well, I see you’ve agreed to our terms,” said Perkins, who acted as spokesman.
“Yes,” said Larry, his voice trembling a little. “Where is my brother?”
“He’s safe,” was the reply. “You stick to your part of the agreement, and we will to ours. Where is your mother’s note?”
Larry began fumbling in his pocket. At the same time, with wildly-beating heart, he was wondering whether he should give the signal for help. He did not quite know how to proceed.
“Come, the note!” said Perkins, impatiently.
Just at that instant a roughly-dressed man, with a plumber’s kit of tools on his shoulder, was entering the hallway downstairs. As he crossed the threshold, another man, with a long scar on his face, lurched forward, and remarked:
“No one allowed in here.”
“I’m the plumber, sent to fix a leaky pipe,” announced the one with the tools, as he brushed past the man who sought to bar his progress.
Moving quickly but silently, the man with the plumber’s tools came to a halt in front of the door with the rising sun on it.
“This is the place. Now to wait until I hear a shot,” he said, softly. “I hope the detectives are all in their places.”
Larry continued to fumble for the note. He wanted to gain time, and likewise he wanted to see the deed produced, since he knew it must be hidden somewhere in the room.
“I’ll sign it now, and my mother can later,” spoke Larry.
“That was not the agreement!” said Perkins, sharply. “Are you trying to trick us?”
At that instant there came a cry:
“Larry! Larry! I want Larry!”
“It’s Jimmy!” burst out Larry. “Where are you, Jimmy?”
“Get him out of here! He’s trying to trick us!” shouted Perkins. Larry made a dash for the room whence his brother’s voice had sounded. Perkins jumped up to bar his progress. At the same time all the others in the room rose from their chairs.
Larry thrust his hand into the pocket containing the revolver. Without drawing the weapon he fired.
At the sound of the report Perkins yelled:
“We’re trapped! Every man for himself! Scatter! I’ll take the kid!”
At that instant, as the sound of the report came to him, the man with the plumber’s kit of tools, who had been standing outside the door, drew from the bundle a short but heavy hammer, and with one blow smashed the lock.
As the portal flew open he leaped inside, at the same time blowing shrilly on a whistle he placed to his mouth.
“This is the time Harvey Newton does a bit of real detective work!” he cried, smiling grimly as he dashed toward the lighted room.
The place was a scene of confusion. The men were trying to escape, each seeking one of the several secret exits. Perkins dashed toward the room whence the cry of the child had proceeded.
Larry, whose first thought was to rescue Jimmy, watched this man. He saw him emerge from the apartment, with the captive under his arm.
“Drop him!” cried the young reporter, leaping on the back of Perkins.
Anger lent Larry strength. He clasped his arms about the kidnapper, and loosened the man’s grip on Jimmy. The little chap was yelling with fear, but as soon as he caught sight of his brother his tears ceased.
“Take me home, Larry!” he exclaimed.
Perkins rolled over and over, the force of his fall caused by Larry’s sudden impact sending him spinning. Then, thinking only of his own safety, the man rose to his feet and sped down a secret passageway, while Larry gathered Jimmy close in his arms.
Meanwhile Mr. Newton, who had torn off the false beard and wig, was grappling with Randall. They were having a fierce struggle, when two detectives who had been stationed outside, and who had dashed in at the sound of Mr. Newton’s whistle, sprang on Randall, and soon made him a prisoner.
At this the blue-handed man, seeing that the game was up, made a spring for the mantel. He sought to grasp what looked like an old newspaper, but Mr. Newton, seeing his movement, sent him sprawling with a blow.
“Here with the handcuffs, Jack,” the reporter cried to one of the detectives, and soon Noddy was secured.
The others of the gang had scattered, and one of the detectives was about to follow them down a passage that led from the room.
“Don’t bother,” said Mr. Newton. “They’ll be caught before they go very far.”
“I guess you’ve got us right,” said Noddy.
“If you only had one guess, you’d win,” remarked the reporter, dryly.
“Oh, I’m so glad you came, Larry!” exclaimed Jimmy. “I was so lonesome! I thought you would never get here.”
“Better get right home with him, Larry,” said Mr. Newton. “Your mother will be worried, I know.”
“What about the deed?” asked the young reporter.