BY WAY OF THE HOUSE NEXT DOOR
The boys will never know how long it took to drive to the street
and number given them by the poor Weasel. Arriving at the corner
where the old brown stone house stood looking the picture of
desolation, with its closely boarded-up windows, its dusty steps
and seedy doors, the boys passed down the side street and left
the car in the shadow of the buildings there. They separated and
hurried back to the house, one at a time. Slipping through the
dense shadows in the weedy, cluttered-up back yard, a yard that
had once been a trim garden with smooth paths and neat little
hedges, as back yards were once in the olden days, they met under
the iron fire-escape attached to the house next door. This
building, much higher than the corner house, was used as a
private sanitarium or hospital by one of the highest-priced
specialists in the city. The fire-escape, therefore, was in
perfect condition, and safe as such a spidery stairway could be
made, with strong rails and good treads.
Porky whispered a word of command, and noiselessly the boys
ascended. The night was pitch dark, but their eyes growing
accustomed to the gloom, they made their way without a stumble.
Reaching the place where the lower building met the taller one,
they found they could not get from the stairway to the other
roof. There was nothing for it but to go on up the remaining
story, cross the roof of the building and drop down to the lower
level. They tiptoed over the flat, pebbled roof, clung to the
eaves, and one by one made the long drop in safety, the only
damage being scratched and bruised palms as they sprawled on
the rough roofing.
A glass skylight was set in the middle of the roof. They hurried
to it and Hen, with a quick twist, worked it loose, and tipped it
noiselessly back on the roof.
"Take off your shoes!" he whispered.
They felt their way down the rough ladder that led from the
skylight to the attic, and stood motionless, scarcely breathing
in the dense darkness.
Hen, who had the flashlight, feared to press the button. There
was not a sound, save a little sputter which they rightly laid to
the wireless machine which the Weasel had told them about. In a
moment, (it seemed years) Hen decided that they must have light,
even at the risk of discovery, and his flashlight illumined the
room in which they stood. Immediately Porky pointed to the big
chimney, and the pile of lumber stacked beside it. He touched
the others, and led the way. They went noiselessly across the
uneven floor, and reaching the boards, found, as the Weasel had
said, a narrow opening in the floor.
As the three neared the bottom of the ladder, a scream, muffled
and choked but full of agony, sounded close to them. The boys
recognized that thin, boyish tone, even in its torture. They
felt their hair rise on their scalps as they listened.
Quickly turning in the narrow, breathless space in which they
found themselves, they saw a little star of light pierce the
pitch blackness. It was the little peek hole made in the panel
by the Weasel. Porky put his eye to the place. One instant he
looked, and drew back as Hen pressed close. In turn they peered
through the tiny hole. They shuddered as they did so. Then Hen,
with all the caution he could summon, pushed open the door, and
stepped out, covering the Wolf with a wicked-looking muzzle. The
bound and gagged boy in the chair saw the strange group which had
so suddenly and so mysteriously appeared, but for a moment the
Wolf, who was standing with his back toward the wardrobe, was
unaware of their presence. He was laughing--a cold-blooded,
curdling, low laugh as he stooped toward the boy's bare feet, his
lighted cigar in his hand. Already those feet were marred by
cruel burns along the tender soles.
As he stopped, he watched his victim's eyes for a sign of
surrender.
"Give me the names!" he demanded in his low snarling, smooth
voice. He watched his victim's eyes and in them, suddenly, he
saw a strange flash of hope, of amazement. Asa was looking over
the Wolf's shoulder.
Without the least suspicion of the truth, the Wolf straightened
up, and lazily turned. What lie saw wiped the sneering,
malicious smile from his face.
Hen, his bulldog jaw set, held the revolver pointed straight at
the traitorous heart.
"Hands up," barked Porky in a voice which seemed to come from
some one else. He was not himself. The sight that had met his
eyes, the bound figure, the blistered feet, the crouching Wolf
with his low, fiendish laugh--it was all like a frightful
electric shock to Porky, and in that horrible instant he came
into his manhood. Behind him, at his shoulder, his twin brother
went through the same agony of soul and he, too, felt a strange
new thrill, an addition of courage and strength.
"Hands up!" said Porky again.
For a moment the sly eyes of the Wolf swept the room, then his
hands were raised. He backed toward the table but a curt order
from Hen, and he stood still.
"There's rope on that table," said Hen. "Get it and bind him."
Beany grabbed the rope, and bent to tie the ankles of the Wolf.
Like a flash his hands came down, he seized the boy and clutching
him in a vise-like grip, held him before him as a shield.
"Shoot if you like," he sneered, and backed rapidly toward the
door. Hen followed, the useless pistol still pointed, but
Beany's body covered the Wolf who, with the strength of ten, held
Beany before him as he neared the door that would mean escape,
and safety. He had almost reached it when a deafening noise
sounded from below. There was the sound of a door being battered
in, shots were fired, and shouts heard. For a second the Wolf
faltered. For a second he was off his guard. In that second,
Beany made a light, steel-muscled bound, swung his legs up and
out, using the spy's breast as a brace, turned a somersault over
his head, dropping to the floor behind him. It was so quick, so
unexpected, that the Wolf could not keep his hold, and Beany
dropped to the floor, crying, "Shoot!"
A revolver cracked, but it was in the Wolf's hand. Porky felt a
sting as the bullet grazed his shoulder. Then Hen's weapon
barked just once!
The revolver dropped from the Wolf's hand, a strange, blank look
spread over his face, and he sank to his knees. Beany, flat on
the floor behind him, jumped to his feet.
The door, which had been unlatched, swung violently open and for
a second the face of Ledermann appeared, then flashed by as he
saw the tableau, and dashed for the stairway to the attic and the
roof. A dozen policemen ran in, three of them following
Ledermann, at Porky's direction, while the others snapped the
cuffs on the two men at the table, and tenderly took the cruel
gag from Asa's parched and bleeding mouth, and untied him. Beany
rushed up into the attic after the men who were pursuing
Ledermann and as he reached the place, the call of the wireless
caught his attention. He answered the call, and commenced to
take down a long message.
Below, Porky and Hen knelt by the Wolf and turned him over. He
still breathed, and Hen fumbled through his pockets for another
revolver. He found instead a long, keen knife which he threw
aside. Then, with Porky, he fell to watching the closed eyes of
the spy. They opened, and the Wolf looked from one to the other
with cold, unrelenting hatred. He did not speak.
"Buck up!" said Hen suddenly. His voice shook with excitement.
"Say, you don't want to croak yet. I got to tell you: the Weasel
said to tell you that he had bit. Understand? He has bit.
See?" Hen paused with a look of satisfaction.
The Wolf, who was bleeding fearfully, slowly closed his eyes.
"That ends him," said Hen solemnly. "Gosh!"
A detective felt the heart of the wounded man.
"He's alive," he said. "Send an ambulance call, somebody."
Another detective raced down the stairs, while those who remained
commenced to search the room for hiding places.
"I know where he's got some stuff hidden," Asa said thickly.
"Take off his shoe; the other one," and someone did so. "Get
that iron thing on the table," Asa continued, "and get the heel
off."
The Chief had it done in a moment and the tiny squares of paper
fluttered to the floor. The Chief picked them carefully up, and
put them in his pocketbook as a wild clanging down below
announced the coming of the ambulance. A couple of doctors came
up, three steps at a time, and examined the Wolf. A bandage soon
stopped the flow of blood, and, still unconscious, he was carried
down the stairs. A detective picked Asa up and prepared to
follow, but that young man stiffened, the way a spunky boy
sometimes does, and slid through the man's arms. As he came to
his feet, he let out a howl of pain, and went to his knees. But
he was speaking.
"Not with him!" he cried hoarsely. "Not with him! I won't go in
the ambulance with the Wolf! He'll come to yet and kill somebody,
and he'll blame me for the whole thing. I'd rather stay here."
"All right," said the Chief. "You need not go in the ambulance.
I will carry you down to the police car, and we will take you
right over to Mr. Leffingwell's."
He picked Asa up in his arms and carried him downstairs and into
the first car. There was quite a procession of them when they
finally started, after leaving a heavy guard in the house, and
very soon they pressed the button at Mr. Leffingwell's door,
which was opened by Barton, the butler.
"'Ow! Bless my 'art!" said Barton, quite like a human being, and
stepped back. It was Timmins who stepped forward; Timmins who
took Asa and bore him into the living room where Colonel Bright,
Mr. Leffingwell, John, his son, and Mr. and Mrs. Potter all rose
to their feet, when Timmins walked in. Mr. Leffingwell would
have another doctor; and while they waited five minutes for him
(he was right in the building) Asa, suffering pretty badly, but
not giving a sign of it, except for his twitching face, lay on
the settee, with Timmins fixing his pillows some other way every
second, and Barton off ordering a hot drink from the cook, who
had taken a peek, and was crying out in the kitchen.
Nobody knew anything about what the boys had been through, but
nobody asked a word; only Porky and Beany kissed their mother
hard, and hugged their dad, and were pounded on the back by Mr.
Leffingwell, who seemed to have a bad cold. When the doctor
came, he ordered Asa straight to bed, and Timmins carried him off
with the haughty Barton stalking in the rear, a glass of egg and
milk in one hand and hot chocolate in the other.