CHESTER DISCOVERS A PLOT.
For half an hour the lad stalked his prey through the streets of the
city, winding about here and there until Chester had absolutely lost his
sense of direction. Several times the man turned round and glanced
furtively about, but apparently he took no notice of his shadow.
Finally he turned into a crooked little street near the outskirts of the
city. Chester also turned the corner, just in time to see the man
descend a pair of steps into the basement of what was apparently an
unoccupied house.
The lad hurried up and arrived in time to hear the man give a peculiar
knock at the door--one loud tap, followed by three soft taps, then
another loud one.
Chester walked back around the corner, where he stopped to think.
"If only I could get in there," he said to himself. "I wonder--"
He stopped, struck by a sudden idea.
"By Jove! I believe it can be done," he said.
He continued to pace up and down, apparently deep in thought.
Occasionally he stopped to look in the direction from which he had
followed his prey to the rendezvous.
After nearly an hour the lad, after a glance down the street, slipped
quietly into a doorway. Apparently the thing for which he had been
waiting was about to come to pass.
Footsteps sounded on the street, coming closer. Save for the one lone
pedestrian, the street was deserted. The footsteps approached closer, and
Chester gathered himself for a spring. As the man came abreast of the
doorway in which the lad was hiding, Chester hurled himself upon him.
With one hand the lad clutched his victim about the throat, and with the
other he struck out heavily. There was a stifled groan, and the man fell
limp in the boy's arms.
Glancing hurriedly about to see that there was no one in sight--no
witness to his deed--Chester dragged the man into the doorway. Here he
quickly discarded his own clothes, stripped the stranger of his outer
garments and donned them himself.
Then tearing his own clothes into strips, he bound his victim and gagged
him, after which, now attired in his victim's clothes, he stood up and
made a search of the pockets.
"If my surmise is correct," he said to himself, "I shall be all right."
The hand which was exploring the inside breast pocket came forth with a
little piece of cloth.
"Good!" the lad exclaimed. "I thought as much. I didn't believe they
would take too many chances. A stranger might get in and betray them."
For the little piece of cloth the lad had taken from the pocket of his
newly acquired apparel was a black mask.
"Now," said the boy to himself, "to see if I cannot find out who I am
supposed to be."
He continued the search of the pockets. Several pieces of paper and one
or two documents he glanced at hurriedly, and restored. Finally he drew
out a paper that seemed to please him, for his face lighted up with a
smile. He glanced at the slip of paper and read aloud:
"This is to certify that the bearer is an accredited agent of the
One King."
At the bottom was a seal of peculiar design, but there was no signature.
"Evidently," said the lad, "members of this gang are not known to one
another, at least all of them. They may spot me and they may not.
However, I've got to take a chance. Nothing risked, nothing gained."
The lad stepped quickly from his place of concealment and approached
where the man he had followed had turned in more than an hour before. He
descended the steps into the basement and knocked upon the door--once
loudly, three times softly, and once loudly again.
The door swung open before him, and a masked man peered out. Taking a
deep breath, and feeling in his pocket to make sure that his revolver was
in readiness, the lad stepped inside. The door swung to behind him.
Chester followed the man who had opened the door down a dark hallway, and
into a dimly lighted room. Masked as he was, the boy had little fear of
being discovered, but his hand rested on his automatic in his right-hand
coat pocket.
Inside the room Chester perceived a circle of dark faces, stretching
almost around the room. At one side, facing the circle, was a raised
platform, and on this sat a huge bulk of a man, masked, as were all
the others.
They all rose as Chester entered the room, and without a word the boy
made his way to the one vacant seat. The conspirators then resumed their
seats, and Chester sat down also, four chairs away from where the chief
himself sat.
"Number One," called the chief, and the man nearest him on Chester's side
arose. "What have you to report?"
"Everything is ready, sir. As you know, I am on the staff of the Belgian
commander. With the information I shall impart to him at the proper time
to-morrow, the main force of Belgian troops will be withdrawn from the
northern part of the city and the surprise will be complete."
"You are sure? There is no chance of failure?"
"Not the slightest, sir."
"Good!" said the chief, and the first man resumed his seat.
"Number Two," called the chief, and the second man arose.
By his first words Chester recognized the man who had first spoken at the
home of Edna Johnson.
"And what have you to report?" demanded the chief.
"That word has been sent to attack at five o'clock," was the reply.
"I have received an answer, showing that my message was delivered
without mishap."
"Good!" boomed the chief again. "That is all."
Number Two resumed his seat.
"Number Three!" called the chief.
The man next to Chester rose to his feet.
"Your report," commanded the chief.
"I have to report, sir, that the thousand men sent to me have all
arrived. They came singly, and the last one arrived shortly before I
came here. They are all armed and are quartered in vacant houses on
Brussels Street, at the southern extremity of the city. They are
awaiting the word."
The chief nodded, and the third man sat down.
"Number Four!" called the chief.
Chester rose to his feet, as had the others.
"And you, sir?" demanded the chief. "Is your report satisfactory?"
Chester was thinking rapidly. He was in the most ticklish situation he
had ever faced, and he was fully aware of it. He knew now that there was
not one chance in a thousand of his escaping detection. But the lad did
not falter, and his right hand grasped the handle of his automatic more
firmly, as he made reply:
"Entirely so, sir," and then paused.
"Well, well!" shouted the chief. "Explain!"
Chester drew a deep breath, and took a haphazard shot:
"My men are ready to seize the entire Belgian staff, at a moment's
notice, sir."
The confusion that broke out immediately following his words told Chester
that his shot had missed. But the boy stood his ground. There was nothing
else he could do.
From the opposite side of the room came a cry:
"That was the work assigned to me."
"That is not true," was Chester's quick reply. "I was the man selected
for that work."
The man on the other side of the room made a spring toward Chester, but
he was arrested by the commanding voice of the chief, who now stood up to
his full height, a revolver barrel gleaming in his outstretched hand.
"There is a traitor here," said the chief calmly. "I shall be the one to
decide who it is, for you are all known to me. Unmask!"
Every person in the room save Chester obeyed this command, and for the
fraction of a second he stood alone, his face still covered. But he stood
for a fraction of a second only.
Then with a quick move his revolver leaped from his pocket, and there was
the sound of a shot. The chief toppled over to the floor.
Chester leaped to one side, and with a backward sweep of his left arm
knocked the single lamp from the wall and plunged the room into darkness.
Then he dropped to his knees. And none too soon, for twenty pistols
cracked and as many bullets went hurtling by the spot where he had stood
a moment before.
Ten feet behind Chester was a door. He had noticed it when he first
entered the room, and had decided that there lay whatever chance he had
for safety should he be discovered. Quickly, and still stooping, he ran
toward the door.
And even as he reached it a match flared up and a bullet whistled by his
ear. But the door was unlocked and gave before the boy's weight, and as,
after passing safely through it, he turned to close it in the faces of
his enemies, one man blocked him, his arm raised to fire.
But Chester's revolver rang out first. The lad had fired from his hip,
and the man went sprawling.
The lad turned his weapon on the others who now rushed toward him, and
fired three rapid shots. Then he slammed the door shut, bolted it with a
single movement, and, turning, ran along the dark passageway, at the end
of which he could discern a dim light.
Chester wiped his brow with his hand, and his hand came away wet. Holding
it close to his eyes as he ran, Chester saw blood. A bullet had struck
him a glancing blow on the side of the head, but in the excitement of the
moment he had not realized that he was wounded.
At the end of the passageway the lad emerged into another room. There was
not a window in the room, and, glancing hurriedly about, Chester espied a
pair of stairs. Quickly he leaped up these, and came into what apparently
at one time had been a kitchen.
The boy's gaze roved hastily about for a means of exit. He tried the
door, but it was locked. Twice he threw his whole weight against it, but
it did not budge. He looked at the windows. For some reason, they were
heavily barred.
Chester put the muzzle of his automatic to the keyhole of the door and
fired. The lock was blown entirely away, and the door flew open beneath
the lad's weight.
Not hesitating, the lad leaped through the next room and sped into the
hall beyond. He could clearly see that his way now led to the front door,
and he made for it at a run. He grasped the knob and gave a quick wrench,
but the door would not open.
He sought for the key to turn it, but there was no key. Evidently the
family, upon going away, had barred it from the outside. From behind, the
boy could hear the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps, and he knew
that every moment's delay spelled disaster and almost certain death.
He picked up a chair, and with a single blow shattered the glass front of
the door. He drew the leg of the chair across the ragged pieces of glass
left at the bottom, and then, dropping the chair, drew himself up.
Just as he was about to tumble out on the far side, four men dashed up
the steps with drawn revolvers. Chester took in the situation at a
glance. He was between two fires, and escape was impossible.
"Well," he told himself quietly, "I guess it's all up with me this time."
He dropped back inside and faced his pursuers. Throwing his now useless
revolver to the floor, he raised both hands.
"I surrender," he said quietly.