HELD CAPTIVE
There came a peculiar rap at the door. First two blows, then a pause,
then three light taps, followed by three raps at long intervals.
“It’s----” began the tall man.
“Shh-h!” cautioned his companion. “No names, remember. Let him in.”
The other opened the door. A well-dressed man entered.
“Have you got him?” he asked.
“Sure,” replied the two men at once. They had stood in front of Larry,
so that the new-comer could not see him at first. At this, however,
they moved aside and the well-dressed man got a glimpse of the boy. He
gave a start.
“That’s not the one!” he exclaimed.
“Not the one!” cried the tall man. “Sure he’s the one. He’s the one
that was pointed out to us. Besides he has the papers in his pocket. I
saw him put ’em in.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course.” The tall man with a sudden motion plunged his hand into
Larry’s inside pocket and pulled out the bunch of copy. The new-comer
glanced hurriedly at it.
“It’s the stuff,” he said, “but, all the same, you have the wrong one.
You got the messenger boy. The one we wanted is the reporter who has
been writing all this stuff about the strikers. He’s the one we want to
get even with.”
At last Larry understood why he had been kidnapped.
The heads of the strikers, incensed at the articles Mr. Newton had been
writing about them, had determined on revenge. Whether they thought
that by capturing a reporter they could stop the articles from going
into the paper Larry could not guess. It was more likely, he thought,
that the men merely wanted to scare Mr. Newton and make him tone down
the descriptions of the acts committed by the strikers.
Persons who thought it to their advantage to keep out of the public
notice, Larry knew, often tried to intimidate the reporters assigned to
write them and their doings up, but he had never heard of such a bold
attempt to bring about silence.
He realized that a plot must have been formed to capture Mr. Newton.
But the men detailed to carry it out had mistaken Larry for the
reporter.
“What shall we do? Turn him loose?” asked the short man with a nod at
Larry.
“It’s a bad blunder to make,” spoke the well-dressed man, who seemed to
be in charge. “I don’t see how you came to make it. But we dare not
turn him out yet.”
“Why not?”
“Why, he’d give the whole thing away, and the strike’s not half won. As
soon as he got out of here the police would come.”
“I will not tell on you if you only let me go,” said Larry. “I must get
the copy to the paper. They’ll think I’ve run away.”
“They’ll have to think it then,” rejoined the leader.
“I promise I will not tell,” repeated the boy.
“We can’t trust you,” replied the short man, in hard tones.
“We’ll have to keep him here for some time,” went on the well-dressed
man. “Then we’ll have to make another try for the real one.”
Larry felt his heart beating fast at the thought that perhaps Mr.
Newton, all unconscious of danger, might be caught by the men. How he
longed for a chance to warn the reporter!
“It’s going to be a ticklish job,” rejoined the tall man.
“Can’t help it,” went on the leader. “We’ll do the best we can. This
place is far enough away. You two men will have to stay on guard. Give
him all he wants to eat, but if he tries to escape--well, you know what
to do.”
“I guess so,” muttered the short man, with an ugly look at Larry.
The three men left the room then, but Larry could hear them talking
in low tones in the hall. He stole to a window, hoping there might be
a chance to get away. He found it tightly shut. Besides the casement
was five stories from the ground, and to leap that distance would have
meant death.
By pressing his face closely against the window pane Larry could see
that, about three windows over, on a line with the one he was looking
from, was a fire escape. If he could only reach that, he thought, he
could get away. But to reach it seemed out of the question. As he stood
looking the two men who had captured him re-entered the room.
“What were you doing?” the tall one asked him.
“Looking out of the window,” replied Larry boldly.
“Be careful you don’t try to get out,” was the rejoinder. “The windows
are all protected by burglar alarm wires. If you open one it will give
the signal, and we’ll catch you before you can go ten feet, so be
careful.”
Larry said nothing. There was a chair in the room, and he sat down on
it. The tall man made a careful examination of the window. As he had
said there were wires around the frame, but they seemed old and rusty
and Larry half believed they did not work.
While one of the men remained in the room, the other went out. He came
back shortly with a pile of rags and blankets which he threw in the
middle of the floor.
“There’s your bed,” he said to Larry.
It was getting dusk, but Larry had no desire to go to sleep. He was too
worried and anxious over his position and too full of wonder at what
his mother and those on the _Leader_ might think about him.
The two men left the room, locking the door after them, and Larry was
left alone. He was more frightened than he cared to admit. He half
wished the men would remain with him.
He went to the window and looked out again. There was nothing to be
seen except a wide expanse of open lots, and there was not a house
within hailing distance. The glass in the windows seemed unusually
thick, and Larry thought that if he tried to break it he might be badly
cut. Besides, smashing the pane would give as loud an alarm as the
ringing of the electric bell.
Then, tired with his work, and worn out with anxiety, Larry threw
himself down on the blankets, wondering what would happen on the morrow.
Meanwhile, Mr. Newton was waiting in vain for Larry’s return. He had
quite a bunch of copy ready for the last edition, and, when he knew it
was nearly time to go to press, he went to a telephone and asked what
had become of the boy.
“Why, he hasn’t been here since the third batch of stuff brought in,”
replied Mr. Emberg. “We thought you might have him up there. What’s the
trouble?”
Then Mr. Newton told how he had started Larry for the office with an
important part of the story.
“He’s been hurt in an accident,” said Mr. Newton, “that’s what’s
happened.”
“Maybe be got tired of the work and left without notice,” suggested the
city editor over the wire.
“Larry’s not that kind,” spoke Mr. Newton firmly. “You’ll see that
something has happened to him. But say, let someone take the rest of
this story over the wire, and I’ll soon be in.”
With grave wonder as to what had befallen Larry, Mr. Newton dictated
the story of the strike and the bomb explosion. Then he took a car for
the office, as the strikers had temporarily dispersed.
On the way down he thought of all sorts of conjectures. The most
reasonable supposition was that Larry had met with an accident--been
hit by a car or cab--knocked unconscious and hurried off to some
hospital. Reaching the office Mr. Newton inquired from the police
whether any such accident had happened. He was told there was none.
“That’s queer,” he muttered. If he had only known where Larry was
he would have thought it more strange. “I must get out on this case
myself. But first I’ll go to Larry’s home.”
Mrs. Dexter, who was beginning to be a little worried over the
non-appearance of her son, was more alarmed when Mr. Newton arrived. At
first she thought the reporter had come to bring bad news, but she was
soon told there had been no accident.
“Maybe a bad man took him off,” said little James. “There’s lots of ’em
in New York.”
“Well, I guess it isn’t as bad as that,” said Mr. Newton. “We’ll find
him, don’t worry. He’s probably lost his way, and maybe he doesn’t like
to ask, thinking he should be able to find it himself.”
But, in his own mind, Mr. Newton was satisfied that Larry was not
so foolish. He began to be alarmed. This alarm grew when, the next
morning, no word had been received from the missing boy. Mrs. Dexter
was sure he had been killed, and she worried so that Mr. Newton, who
paid a second visit to the humble home, was afraid lest she should make
herself ill.
“I’ll find Larry for you!” he said. “I’ve found lots of missing people,
and I’ll get Larry!”
But, though he spoke confidently, Mr. Newton did not know where to
begin. He made a report of the missing lad to the police, and a
general alarm was sent out. But there are so many of these in the
course of the day, and so little attention is paid to a hunt for
missing persons, in New York, that Mr. Newton had not much hope in this
respect.
The reporter went back to where Larry had parted from him, and made
careful inquiries. He found one or two who remembered having seen
several boys, more or less like Larry, about the time he disappeared.
But the bomb had exploded that same time, and the attention of everyone
had centered on that.