A QUEER CAPTURE
Many thoughts occupied Larry’s mind. For some time he had been
suspicious of the men on the floor below him. That they were up to no
good seemed evident, yet he felt that it was wrong to say, without more
proof, that they were up to something bad. They were seldom seen in the
daytime, and, though they moved about rather lively at night, Larry
could see nothing through the crack that he could say was criminal, or
that would bring the men under the law.
Now, however, that the pawnbroker had told him the money one of the men
had given Mrs. Dexter was bad, Larry began to have new suspicions.
They were hardly definite enough to warrant his speaking to anyone
concerning them, so he resolved to keep a closer watch.
“Maybe they have friends who make counterfeit money,” thought Larry,
“and they are trying to dispose of it for them. Maybe--” then he
stopped in his train of thought suddenly.
“I’ll bet they’re the counterfeiters themselves!” he exclaimed.
“That’s what that strange light meant. That’s what they were doing the
night I watched them. They melt the metal up and pour it into moulds.
Then they try to pass it off for good coins.”
Larry was so excited by his idea that he walked faster than usual, and,
the first thing he knew, he was nearly two blocks past his house. He
retraced his steps, and found his mother awaiting his return.
“Well?” asked Mrs. Dexter, “is the money bad?”
“I’m afraid so,” replied Larry.
“Then we’ll have to lose it,” said Mrs. Dexter. “I don’t want to ask
the man to take it back. He might say I got it somewhere else.”
“That’s right, mother,” spoke Larry. “Say nothing about it to the man.
If he offers you any more money, or asks for change, don’t take any or
give any.”
“Why, Larry? What’s the matter?”
“I can’t say yet,” replied the boy. “I’ve had my suspicions for some
time, but I want to be sure. I’ll speak to Mr. Newton about it.”
That night Larry kept a close watch, through the crack in the floor,
on the men below, but their place remained in darkness. None of them
seemed to be at home, and Larry was wishing there was some way of
getting into their apartments so he could see what they were making.
“Never mind, my chance may come yet,” the boy thought, as he went to
bed, to dream of being captured by a band of counterfeiters who were
about to melt him into a big half-dollar to get rid of him, when he
awoke with a start.
The sun was shining in his eyes through his window and it was time to
get up and go to work. He found plenty of things to do at the office
that day, and so had no chance to speak to Mr. Newton about the money
matter. He was somewhat surprised to read an item in the paper bearing
on the very subject that was uppermost in his mind.
There was an account of an investigation that the United States
authorities had started, to discover the source whence a number of bad
coins seemed to be circulating about New York.
A number of detectives had been detailed on the work of running the
counterfeiters to earth, the article said, and, in the meanwhile, the
public was cautioned to be careful what money was accepted in change.
Bad half-dollars were especially numerous, it was stated.
Larry felt sure that the men, in the room below his, were the
counterfeiters. He was confirmed in this belief that same day when he
had gone on an errand for Mr. Emberg to police headquarters.
As he was standing in the main room, waiting for Mr. Newton, to whom
he had been sent with a note, he saw two detectives, whom he knew by
sight, talking earnestly together in a corner.
Larry did not want to listen to a private conversation, but he could
not help overhearing what the men were saying. He caught the words,
“counterfeiters,” “bad half-dollars,” and then the men mentioned the
number of the house and the street where Larry lived.
“They’re after the men below our apartment!” thought Larry. “Those men
are counterfeiters, just as I suspected. This will make a fine story
for the paper. I hope it will be a beat!”
He saw that the detectives were two who were in the habit of figuring
rather prominently in the police reports of the papers. Larry
recollected that Mr. Newton had once said that both the officers were
not as good as some others who did not get half the publicity they
deserved.
“And they’re the same ones that treated Mr. Newton so mean on that
robbery story,” reflected Larry, referring to the officers in
conversation. “They wouldn’t give him the story. I wish they were not
going to capture the counterfeiters. It’s too good a job for them. They
don’t deserve it.”
He hardly knew how to act. He knew he must not interfere with the
course of the law, yet he would have been glad to see some other
detectives, who were more friendly to the newspaper men than the two
he heard conversing were, make the capture. Larry realized that to
catch the counterfeiters would mean quite a feather in the caps of the
officers.
That night Larry kept a closer watch than usual. He could not see
enough to enable him to tell exactly what the men were doing, but he
noticed the golden glow flood the apartment, and he knew the men were
melting something, for he could hear them talking about whether or not
it was hot enough.
The number of counterfeit coins continued to increase, and the
government inspectors redoubled their efforts to land the gang they
were convinced was working in New York.
One afternoon, as he was coming from the office, Larry was met in the
hall, just outside the apartment of the men under suspicion, by one of
them. The man regarded Larry for a few seconds and then said:
“Would you mind doing me a favor?”
“What is it?” asked Larry, thinking the man might want some more money
changed. In such an event the lad was prepared to refuse. He did not
propose to have bad coins passed on him.
“Will you come in here and give me your opinion?” asked the man,
holding the door open.
For a few seconds Larry hesitated. He thought the man might be one of
the counterfeiters who had discovered he was being watched and who had
determined to capture the spy. In such an event Larry felt he would be
safer on the outside.
Yet he had a boy’s curiosity to see what was in the room about which
the men were so secretive. If he could get a look he felt it might help
him to know what to do.
The man noticed Larry’s hesitation.
“You needn’t be afraid,” the stranger remarked. “I know some of the
neighbors regard us a little suspiciously, but our work is such that it
has to be done where no one can see us.”
“What do you want me to do?” asked Larry.
“Merely give us your opinion,” spoke the man. “We have an article we
want you to look at and tell us if you think it is good, and will be
generally acceptable.”
Larry was just going to remark that he was not a very good judge of
counterfeit money, when he happened to think that would not be a wise
remark to make. He saw that the man held the door wide open. There did
not seem to be any other persons in the apartment. Larry resolved to
risk going in. He thought if the men attempted to harm him he could
call loudly enough to bring help.
“We want to get the idea of a real American boy on the quality of the
work we have done,” the man went on. “Will you please come in?”
Then Larry resolved to enter. He nerved himself for an ordeal as he
crossed the threshold.
“This way,” remarked the man, preceding him, and, going into an inner
room, Larry saw before him a pile of bright shining objects.
He gave a sudden start. The man noticed it and said quickly:
“Now don’t say a word about it. We don’t want anyone to know we are
doing this. What do you think of them?”
Larry was much surprised at what he saw. He talked for some time with
the man, and, when he emerged from the apartment, the boy’s face bore a
queer look.
“I must tell Mr. Newton about this,” he said. “He will be glad to know
of it, and then it will be a chance to do those detectives a turn.”
Mr. Newton was much excited over what Larry told him next day.
“Are you sure Detectives Jones and Douglass are on the case?” he asked.
Larry told what he had overheard at police headquarters.
“Then I guess they are,” remarked the reporter. “Well, this will be
quite a surprise for them. It will kill two birds with one stone.”
“What do you mean?” asked Larry.
“We’ll get a story for the paper out of it and fool the officers
besides.”
“It will be a queer story,” said Larry, and Mr. Newton nodded.
For several days after that, the men in the rooms below the Dexter
apartment were busily engaged. Larry no longer kept watch of them.
Instead he kept a careful lookout on persons who loitered about in the
street near the house. One evening at dusk he saw two rather poorly
dressed men who walked up and down several times, and then ventured
into the hallway of the house.
“I guess they are the detectives in disguise,” thought Larry. “It is
almost time to spring the trap.”
In accordance with an arrangement he had made he telephoned to Mr.
Newton.
“So you think it’s time, eh?” asked the reporter. “I’ll come right
over.”
Mr. Newton joined Larry half an hour later, and the pair went to the
boy’s room, above where the strange men had been working for some time.
“Are they downstairs?” whispered Mr. Newton.
“Yes,” said Larry, “and the detectives are hidden in a room across the
hall. I guess they’ll break in any minute now. We can hear them through
the crack. I have made it bigger so we can see well.”
Larry and the reporter knelt down and applied their eyes to the hole in
the floor. They could observe the men moving about, and could see the
golden glow that filled the apartment.
Suddenly, as they watched, they heard the sound of crashing wood.
“They are breaking in the door!” exclaimed Larry. “The detectives are
after them!”