The Plight of the Innocent
If the information that had come over the wire from an unknown
was correct there was not a moment to be lost in telephoning.
It was a masculine voice that had sounded in the 'phone and the
message was to the effect that the sender of the message had just
observed two men forcing the rear entrance of Kahn's drygoods
store.
"And hearing that 'The Blade' is trying to catch the burglars
I thought I'd just let you know," the voice had continued. "But
I guess you'll have to be quick if you want a sight of the burglars.
They'll probably get away in quick order."
Then had come the ring-off, just as Dick had tried to get the
name of his informant.
Now Dick was sprinting toward the scene by the shortest route
that he could think of.
Kahn's store was on Main Street, but the rear entrance, used for
the receipt of goods opened in off an alleyway that ran parallel
with Main Street.
"There can't be much time to spare," muttered Dick, looking hard
for a policeman.
At this late hour of the night the streets that Dick traveled
in his haste were bare of pedestrians.
"I wish I had had time to get Dave," though Prescott. "But that
would have lost at least five minutes more. And Dave wasn't going
to be ready to go out until he came around for me nearer midnight."
Dick was at the head of the alley, now, an moving cautiously,
eyes wide open and ears on the alert.
How dark it was down in here! Dick wondered, a moment, at the
keenness of vision that had enabled some neighbor to see what
was going on over in this dark place.
In his pocket, at the time of receiving the message, Prescott
had placed a pocket electric "search-light."
This he thought of, now, but he did not deem it wise to go flashing
the light about unless he had to.
"The first point in my information is right, anyway," muttered
Dick. "The rear door of Kahn's is open."
Moving in the shadow of the building, he had paused not far away
from the door in question.
"There were two of the fellows, the message said," muttered Dick.
"In that case, I should think one would have been left outside as
a lookout. However, the lookout may be just a little way inside
of the door. It won't do to use my light now. I'll see if I can
slip in and get close to the lookout before the thieves know
there's anyone around."
A step at a time Prescott softly reached the open door. He paused,
listening intently.
"I don't hear a sound in there. I guess I'd better take a few
very soft steps inside, and see if I can discover where the rogues
are. That is, unless they have already bagged their booty, and
have gotten away again."
Just inside of the open door, Dick halted again. He listened,
but there was no sound.
"These scoundrels are surely the original mice for soft moving,"
muttered the boy grimly. "What part of the establishment can
they be in? Hadn't I better slip out and get the police? I can't
learn anything in here unless I use my light."
Yet Prescott didn't want to turn on that flare. The light was
much more likely to show him up to the burglars than to enable
him to find men who were not making a sound.
So Dick penetrated a little further, and a little further, listening.
As he moved he was obliged to grope his way.
At last, however, he found himself confused as to the points of
the compass. In this darkness, he was not even sure which was
the way out.
"I'll have to use the flash now," concluded Dick.
Taking the long tube from one of his pockets, he pressed the button
briefly, giving a flash that lasted barely a second.
"What was that?" muttered the boy, with a start, as the light
went out.
Clearly enough, now, he heard stealthy steps. He was almost certain,
too, that he distinguished the sound of low whispers.
"That flash has scared the rascals," throbbed Dick Prescott.
"Now, if I can only locate 'em, and get out first! I may succeed
in getting the police to the scene before both get away. One
of 'em, anyway, I ought to be able to floor with this heavy cane!"
Transferring the light to his left hand, Dick took a strong grip
of the cane. It did not eyed occur to him to be afraid in here.
He was trying to trap the burglars as a piece of enterprise for
"The Blade," and that was all he thought about.
Suddenly there was a more decided step in the darkness. It sounded,
too, right in advance of the boy who stood there guessing in the dark.
"Halt, where you are!" shouted Dick. "And throw up your hands
as high as you can, if you don't want to get drilled! Don't try
to use your weapons, for I have the drop!"
It was sheer bluff, for the only thing with which Prescott could
claim the drop was his cane.
Yet, in such circumstances, a bold front is half the battle.
Prescott bounded forward, boldly, at the same moment turning on
his light.
The next moment, though he held the light, the cane dropped from
his nerveless fingers.
"We've got you, Prescott!" roared a voice. "And you? Of all
the thundering big surprises. But we've got you! Stop all nonsense
and get in line to come along with us."
It was the chief of police, backed by three of his men, whom Dick
now faced. They had thrown their lights on, too, so that there
was now plenty of illumination.
Nor was this Chief Coy, one of Dick's old time friends, but Chief
Simmons, a new man appointed only a few months before.
Chief Simmons was almost frantically anxious to catch the burglar
or burglars, for their continued operations reflected upon his
abilities as the new police chief.
All in a flash young Prescott took in the horrifying idea that
Chief Simmons believed him to be the real burglar.
"But I-----" began Dick chokingly.
"Yes, you will!" retorted Chief Simmons. "You can't put up any
fight, and you can't make any denial."
"I-----"
"Take him, you men, and handcuff him." roared the chief. "Then
we'll go through the rest of the store, and see what we can learn."
Dick drew back, with a shudder, as two of the officers came toward
him, intent on carrying out their chief's order.
"You'd better submit, Prescott," warned the chief sternly. "We're
not in a mood to stand any fooling."
"But won't you listen-----" began Dick, gasping.
"I'm not the trial judge," jeered Simmons. "Still, I'll listen
to you all you want, later in the night. Now, stand forward!"
Dick realized the folly and the uselessness of defying the police.
He moved nearer to the chief, as ordered. And Prescott began
to understand how black the whole affair looked for him.
But how had it happened?
He would have given worlds to know.
"Hold your hands forward, and together," commanded Chief Simmons.
Quivering, flushing with the shame of the thing, young Prescott
obeyed. The officer who fitted the handcuffs to the boy's wrists
felt ashamed of his work, for he had always been one of Dick's
friends.
The click of the steel ratchets brought Prescott back to a realization
of things.
"I'm not much of a catch, chief," muttered the boy. "You'd better
not be content with me alone. Leave me under watch and then the
rest of you had better spread through this place. I think there
are others here---the men you seek."
"You've confederates here, have you?" demanded Simmons, fixing
his suspicious gaze on the boy. "Judkins, you watch Prescott---and
mind you don't let him give you the slip. The rest of us will
keep on going through this store. You say you think there are
others here, Prescott?"
"I think so," replied the boy.
Chief Simmons raised his voice.
"If there's anyone here-----" he called.
"There is!" came back in a tone that made Dick Prescott start
and throb with alarm.
"Who---where---" asked Chief Simmons, excitedly.
"Right here!" came the voice. "Hold your lights on me!"
Two flash-lights at once centered their rays on the speaker, and
Dave Darrin bounded forward into the light.
"So you two have been working this thing as side partners, have
you?" asked Chief Simmons harshly. "Great Scott, how you've fooled
us, then! Like everyone else, we believed you two boys to be
straight. Tell me," commanded Simmons dryly, "is Editor Pollock
in this store-robbing gang, too?"
"Ask Mr. Pollock yourself," Dave flung back.
"I will, when I get time," retorted Simmons. "Grab Darrin and put
the irons on his wrists, too!"