ON THE TRAIL
On the day following that of Tom Bradford's disappearance, Bart
and Billy were assigned to special duty as part of an officers'
escort on a mission to a neighboring town.
After they had left Frank found himself very lonely, especially as
he had an afternoon off duty. Mingled with his thoughts of the
missing Tom was the thought that had constantly haunted his mind
of late--the unsolved mystery of the alley up which hostile
Germans could flit and apparently disappear into thin air. He knew
there must be some explanation of the mystery, but what was it? He
racked his brains to find a plausible solution. But the more he
thought about it, the more uncertain he became, until at last he
came to a resolution.
"Here I am," he thought, "racking my wits over this matter, and
about all I do is just guess work, after all. The best thing I can
do is get permission to go to the town, find that alley and see if
I can't run across some clue that was lacking the last time I was
there."
Having reached this resolve, he lost no time in acting on it, and
readily securing the desired permission, he set off for the town.
This he soon reached, and walked at a smart pace through the
quaint, well-kept streets.
Going along one broad avenue he came suddenly face to face with
the man from whom he had taken away the cane, whom he had since
learned was a famous German physician, a well known character
throughout the war. The latter, however, was so preoccupied that
he took no notice of Frank. His thoughts, whatever they were,
appeared to be pleasant, for as he walked he smiled to himself and
softly rubbed his hands together, as one well pleased with the
course of events.
"The old codger seems mightily pleased over something," mused
Frank, "and I'm willing to bet a reasonable amount it isn't over
any schemes for the betterment of mankind. I may do him an
injustice, but I don't think his genial Hun nature is inclined
exactly in that direction."
He gave little further thought to the chance meeting, his mind
being busied with speculations as to what he might find in the
mysterious alley. The weather was very mild, and he knew the sheet
of ice and snow that had covered the ground on his previous visit
would not now exist to baffle him. But he did not want to enter
the alley until darkness had fallen to offer him concealment, so
abated his usual brisk pace to a mere saunter, and took careful
note of the attitude of the people he passed. The streets were
quiet enough, but the faces of the inhabitants were sullen and
hostile, and Frank could read enmity in the glances cast at him.
"They love the Americans about as much as they love sunstroke," he
meditated. "But it doesn't matter much what they like, because
they'll take just what's handed to them. But it's the lower
elements and the revolutionists who are making most of the
trouble, and I'm a lot mistaken if their headquarters aren't in
the neighborhood of that blind alley. Well, anyway, I'll know more
about it when I get through my privately conducted explorations
this evening."
He stopped in a small restaurant and ordered a light meal. By the
time he had finished this it was nearly dark, and he set out for
his objective without further delay.
He shortly reached the entrance to the alley, and, after casting a
searching glance about him to make sure that he was unobserved, he
slipped cautiously into the place.
"It ought to be a lot easier for me to locate that trap door now
than it was when I was here with Bart," he thought. "There's no
ice now, and if there is a door, I'll be bound to find it."
He proceeded cautiously up the alley, taking every precaution to
avoid noise, and soon reached the blank wall that had so baffled
him and his friends on a previous occasion. He drew a flashlight
from his pocket, and when he thought he was close to the place
where he and Bart had previously located the door he cautiously
played the tiny spot of light over the ground. At first he thought
he must be mistaken, as this part of the alley seemed to be like
all the rest. But, looking closer, his heart leaped as he made out
the outline of a heavy iron ring, lying flat in a recess in the
pavement, and almost covered with gravel and dust. So cunningly
was it concealed that it would inevitably have escaped observation
unless one were actually looking for it.
"There's a trap door here, all right," he exulted. "Now, I wonder
if I can get in, or if it will be fastened from the inside. Here
goes to find out."
With the thought, he worked the iron ring loose from the dirt, set
himself for the effort, and gave a tentative tug. The door did not
give a particle, and he tried again, this time putting every ounce
of his strength into the effort. The door gave a little, but with
all his strength Frank could not lift it more than an inch or two.
He tried again and again, but with no better result, and at last,
to his great disappointment he was forced to give over the attempt
for the time being.
"Guess this is more than a one-man job," he thought to himself.
"What I'll have to do is to bring Bart and Billy here to-morrow
night, and I think the three of us can lift the door easily. I've
made one big step, anyway, for now I know there is really a trap
door here, and before we weren't sure of it."
He pressed the iron ring down into its socket, scattered some
earth and gravel over it, and at last satisfied that he had left
everything as he had found it and in such a condition as not to
arouse suspicion if the secret entrance was used by one of the
plotters before he could return, he turned his footsteps toward
camp.