A RAID AND A SURPRISE
Mr. Cook's automobile was still standing outside, and a few moments later
the little party of four were seated in it and on their way to the police
station. Bob was at the wheel.
Upon their arrival it was the work of only a few moments to have Mr. Cook
and the two boys sworn in as deputy sheriffs. Bob and Hugh retired to the
wash room and after more or less trouble succeeded in removing the false
crop of hair from their faces.
Sergeant Riley ordered two policemen in uniform to go with them, and when
Mr. Cook, Bob and Hugh had been equipped with pistols and heavy night
sticks, the band, now increased to six, were ready to proceed. They used
the Cooks' car again and presently were gliding silently along in the
direction of Elm Street.
Two blocks distant from number twelve eighty-two Bob stopped the car and
every one got out. A short consultation was held and it was decided to
separate. Consequently Mr. Cook, Hugh, and one of the policemen went
down a side street in order to go around the block and approach the house
from the opposite direction. Bob, Sergeant Riley, and the other policeman
were to wait a few moments and then move on up Elm Street. It was thought
best to have Bob with one party and Hugh with the other as both boys knew
the house and could lead the way with no possibility of mistake.
It was exciting work and Bob and Hugh both felt very important and
elated at being allowed to accompany the officers on this raid.
Furthermore they were going to see the inside of the mysterious stucco
house, and perhaps clear up the whole mystery of the German plot and spy
system in High Ridge.
After a few moments' wait Bob, Sergeant Riley, and the policeman started
to move slowly up the street. They met no one on the way, for it was now
after midnight and people were mostly in bed. Only one house had a light
burning as far as they could see; that house was a white stucco one,
number twelve eighty-two and the light was on the third floor.
"Here come the others," whispered Bob to Sergeant Riley as they drew near
their destination.
Orders had already been given and every one knew what he was to do. One
of the policemen went around to the rear of the house and took his
position by the back door. Mr. Cook was to guard the front entrance, and
both men had instructions to do everything necessary to prevent the
escape of any of the inmates of the house.
The remaining four members of the party, led by Sergeant Riley, stole
noiselessly up the steps and approached the front door. Riley took a
bunch of keys from his pocket, inspected the lock, and then selected one
of his keys. At the first trial the lock responded; he grasped the door
knob and silently and, with extreme caution, pushed open the door.
The hallway was unlighted. Sergeant Riley took out his flashlight and
pressed the button on it for a second as he inspected the hall. He
uttered a low grunt of satisfaction as he noted that there was a carpet
on the floor, and also on the stairs leading to the second floor. That
meant their footsteps would not be heard. He beckoned to the others to
follow, and softly stepped inside.
Scarcely daring to breathe, the four raiders advanced. They made no noise
on the thick carpet, but a collision with a piece of furniture or a false
step might have ruined all their chances for success. Sergeant Riley was
in the lead, quick flashes from his pocket torch showing the way.
After what seemed hours they reached the second floor. Thus far nothing
had occurred to make them think that they had been discovered, but the
hardest part was yet to come. From the third floor came the sound of
voices and a shaft of light from an open door pierced the darkness of the
hallway. The men above were talking in German.
There was a brief halt and then Sergeant Riley stole forward again.
With breath in check and walking on tip-toe his three companions
followed. The open door above was about five or six feet distant from
the head of the stairs. They started up the last flight; the voices of
the men above seemed raised in anger, and though Bob of course could
not understand what was said, he thought that the tone of one of them
sounded strangely familiar.
Suddenly the stairs under Sergeant Riley's foot creaked. The little band
stopped short, their hearts pounding; every one gripped his revolver a
bit tighter and waited for developments. Apparently the noise had not
been heard, however, for the voices continued as before.
The advance was resumed and finally Sergeant Riley reached the top of
the stairs. He went a little farther and took his stand just beside
the opened door and barely out of the light. As the others came up
they stationed themselves directly behind the sergeant and close
against the wall.
It was a tense moment. Bob and Hugh could feel their hearts hammering so
that it seemed to the two boys the noise must be heard. Their faces were
pale, and frankly they were frightened. Suppose the men in the room
should outnumber them and overpower them? Certainly if they were the
spies and plotters they sought, they would be desperate. Then again it
was just possible that the men were peaceful citizens, and that the
affair would turn out to be a farce; that would be almost too
humiliating.
Suddenly Sergeant Riley stepped forward into the open doorway.
"Hands up!" he ordered sharply, covering the inmates of the room with his
pistol. His three companions crowded into the doorway alongside him.
There were three men seated about a table in the room, and they were
completely taken by surprise. They started to their feet with muttered
exclamations of anger and astonishment, staring with wide eyes at the
four pistols levelled at them from the doorway.
One man hesitated and made a move as if to reach around towards his hip
pocket, but Sergeant Riley was alert.
"None of that," he cried. "Put up your hands."
The man hastened to obey and together the three stood and faced their
captors. Sullen and angry they looked, and not one of them spoke.
"Now, Marshal," said Sergeant Riley, speaking to the policeman next to
him. "I wish you would be so good as to relieve these gentlemen of any
hardware they may have concealed about them."
While Riley and Bob and Hugh covered the three prisoners, the officer
went rapidly from one to another and took a revolver from each one of
them. He also examined their other pockets, but finding no additional
weapons returned to his post by the door.
While this little drama was being enacted Bob had a chance to look about
the room. It was scantily furnished, a table, four chairs, and a shelf
along the wall constituting its equipment. On the shelf were a dozen or
more bottles that looked as if they might contain chemicals; a square
black box stood on the table and also a brass spring and what resembled a
cord hanging from one side. Bob decided it was a bomb. From a nail in the
center of the ceiling a small alligator was suspended by its tail. Bob
recognized the missing Percy, and decided that this must be the
headquarters of the gang that had used an alligator as its symbol, and
traced a picture of it on all the notes and warnings they sent out.
While the furnishings of the room were interesting, the three men
captured were far more so, and as Bob saw one of them he experienced a
distinct shock. The first was a man with dark hair, weighing perhaps one
hundred and fifty pounds, and having a close-cropped mustache; the fake
detective beyond a doubt. The second was a thin, wiry individual with a
beard, and a swollen, red nose. He was the man who had escaped from his
and Hugh's hands at the factory, Bob decided. His nose was swollen where
Hugh had hit him. This must be the man who had set off the bomb.
The third prisoner was the one who furnished the surprise to Bob,
however. He was a man Bob had known for years, and liked, admired, and
trusted as well. He was Karl Hoffmann.
"Well," exclaimed Sergeant Riley, "it looks as if you men was through
with your work. Get out your handcuffs, Marshal."
Up till now not one of the prisoners had spoken. When they saw the
manacles being brought out, however, they shifted uneasily and
Karl spoke.
"Bob," he said. "This is all a mistake."
Bob would have liked to believe him but before he had an opportunity to
say anything Sergeant Riley spoke up. "Perhaps it is a mistake," he
exclaimed. "We can talk that over down at the police station better than
here, however."
There was now little left to do. The handcuffs were quickly attached to
the prisoners' wrists and Hugh was sent to the second floor to telephone
for the patrol wagon. The prisoners were marched downstairs, and Mr. Cook
and the other policeman were summoned. Mr. Cook was as shocked as Bob had
been to see Karl Hoffmann among those who had been captured in the raid.
There was nothing for it, however, but to see him loaded into the patrol
wagon and driven away to police headquarters.