KIDNAPED
In the morning Bill and Gus were up at daylight, as was their habit. The
storm had ceased, and it was turning warm, the snow melting already. The
boys went to the barn to help with the milking; they got in some wood
and performed other chores. Mr. Farrell, coming in, declared with his
hearty laugh that they could stay as long as they might wish to, for
they had certainly more than earned their food and lodging. As they went
in to the breakfast table he said.
"Mother, better give that other young fellow his money back. Where is
he, anyway? Not down yet?"
"Not yet," said Mrs. Farrell, "though I called him twice."
"I'll get him up and down," said Gus, going toward the stairway.
"Father, have you seen Gyp?" asked Mary Farrell. "I've called him too,
but he doesn't come for his breakfast."
The farmer shook his head and, stepping to the back door, whistled
sharply and at length. Turning to come in he heard a low whine and a
quick search found the dog, lying on his side and unable to rise, his
eyes dull and bloodshot, his tongue protruding. Mr. Farrell had seen
something of the sort before. He picked up the poor little beast and
carried him to a warm bed by the kitchen stove.
"Sarah, he's been poisoned! Nothing else. Getting over it, though.
What--?" And then they heard Gus calling from above.
"Bill! Bill! Come up here, quick! Tony's gone!"
It was true and the manner of his going was very apparent. The room had
been entered from without, noiselessly and by experts. Taking advantage
not only of the lad's sleeping soundly, the housebreakers had used some
anaesthetic, for a wad of cotton that smelled like a drug store lay on
the carpet. Tony had evidently been roughly dressed. His collar, necktie
and cap lay on the bureau and his stockings on the floor. That he had
been carried out of the window and to the ground was certain. The two
ends of the ladder had left their imprint in the snow in the sill and on
the ground. The ladder itself had been thrown among the bushes.
Kidnaped! There was no question about that; but how could such a thing
have happened? A sturdy boy, able to put up a fight, and the thing done
so silently as not to waken a soul in the house. Healthy, sound
sleepers, depending on a dog--and that poor beast put down and out. Poor
Tony! What would they do with him!
Bill and Gus hastily related their affair with the ugly Sicilian and
that of which Tony had told them. They at once found that the big car
had turned about and gone. Footprints in the snow proved that the
occupants of the car had been the kidnapers.
The farmer and his family were duly excited over the case. Nothing so
dramatic had ever before happened to them. Merritt was also wrought up
to a pretty high pitch, for Tony had hired him very generously. The
young Italian had shown himself to be a courteous, well-bred gentleman
and had commanded respect. The manner of his disappearance, and the
possible tragedy lurking behind it, had earned the sympathy of them all.
But the Farrells deferred everything to Bill and Gus who were both eager
to act, and to investigate the too evident, yet mysterious crime, though
they were rendered helpless by the snow-piled roads.
"We'll have to use your 'phone, Mr. Farrell," said Bill. "We will pay
all the tolls. We've got to make this thing known and put Tony's people
wise. His father's a wealthy Italian banker in the city, and he'll begin
to move things when he hears about this." He turned to Gus: "If we could
only get to the school and get a whack at the transmitter, couldn't we
make things hum?"
"Why, my lads," said Mr. Farrell, "that is just the thing to do and I
can get you there in a hurry. These automobiles have got it all over our
horses for speed, but not for power. My bays will land you at the school
in short order and through the biggest snow that you ever saw. Wait till
I hitch them up to the Dearborn."
He was as good as his word. After promising to keep the Farrells and
Merritt posted as to the progress of the hunt for Tony and its outcome,
they were on the road behind a pair of splendid, steaming, plunging
horses, and soon back at the Tech. The Doctor, about to depart for
church, was startled by the news, and he at once turned the transmitting
station over to the boys, going himself to the 'phone and keeping it
busy. Mr. Farrell remained a short time. Then wishing the boys success,
he departed.
The county detective, the mounted police force, the city force and a
private detective agency were all informed of the circumstance, with a
full description of Luigi Malatesta. The incident became a "nine-days'
wonder" in the newspapers. Soon it was learned that the Sicilian had, on
the very day before Tony's disappearance, sold his restaurant in
Guilford for a song. He had disappeared with several others,
questionable characters with whom he had been associated, and on whom he
had evidently relied to do the kidnaping. It was discovered also,
through the confession of a Sicilian suspect, that Tony had been
shadowed for weeks as he went about the school.
But all knowledge of the boy's whereabouts was totally lacking. Clues
were run down without success. The search had failed. Mr. Sabaste, with
a famous detective, came to the school and talked with Bill and Gus. He
went with them to see the Farrells, where he investigated every detail.
The search went far and wide, with no trace of Tony.
The banker offered five thousand dollars for information that would
insure his son's return, and smaller sums for any positive data, which
might lead to the arrest of the kidnapers. Tony's mother was dead. An
older brother who had been in business in the far west was once a victim
of the Malatesta clan. In spite of every possible effort, the
disappearance of the boy remained a mystery; nor could any of the
Malatesta relatives, known by various names and suspected as
accomplices, be found.
Bill and Gus were now in possession of one of the finest radio receiving
sets that could be made, and several other students had purchased
similar, or less perfect, sets from the boys. Whenever opportunity
permitted they either had the loud speaker on, or sat with the 'phones
clamped to their ears, listening in and having much amusement with the
various broadcasters, public and private. It was a liberal education to
hear a tenth of what was going on, besides the regular concert program
each evening. But most in their thoughts was the hope, often expressed
between them, of hearing something that might in some way reflect on the
kidnaping mystery, for the boys missed their kind and courteous Italian
friend.