Part 15 (1/2)

”Well, you didn't name any limit,” replied Mr. Henderson chuckling. ”You said 'call the police' and I called 'em. Might as well be on the safe side, you know.”

As Mr. Pauling helped Tom into Mr. Henderson's car he saw the man whom Rawlins had captured in his spectacular battle under the river being shoved into a patrol wagon.

”Do tell me who he is,” begged Tom. ”Is he a German spy?”

His father laughed. ”You've forgotten the war's over and done with and there are no spies,” he replied. ”No, my boy, he's not even a German.

But you'll have to wait a bit before I can tell you anything more.”

”Well, where did you send those policemen, then?” asked Tom. ”You can tell me that.”

Mr. Pauling's eyes twinkled. ”They've gone to get your phantom radio man,” he replied. ”Henderson's men couldn't find him before, but I'll wager we located him this time. You see, Reilly happened to know about that old sewer and he says it runs under the block where you located the sender of those odd messages. Henderson thinks if he finds one he'll find the other. We'll run around past there and see if anything is happening.”

As Frank and Henry crowded into the little car, the boys saw a stretcher bearing a shrouded form being carried from their workshop to an ambulance, and the next moment they were moving slowly through the crowd which reluctantly made way before the insistent screams of the horn.

Close behind them came another car with Mr. Henderson and Rawlins and a moment later they were through the crowd and speeding towards the block to which Mr. Pauling had dispatched the police.

As they swung around a corner they saw a surging, densely packed throng blocking the street, while from beyond came the sounds of shouts and cries. Above the heads of the people the boys could see the glaring bra.s.s and s.h.i.+ning paint of two patrol cars and, moving here and there, rising and falling as if tossed about upon a troubled sea, the low-visored, flat-topped caps of policemen.

”Can't get through there!” declared Mr. Pauling, as his horn screeched and fell on unheeding ears. ”Looks like a riot!”

Mr. Henderson had leaped from his car and was beside them. ”Guess the men found something,” he remarked. ”I'll push through and see what's up.”

With Rawlins by his side, he wedged his way into the crowd and the two were instantly swallowed up. But a moment later they reappeared, hats and collars awry, coats torn open, and panting.

”Whew!” exclaimed Mr. Henderson. ”Might as well try to get through a solid wall. h.e.l.lo! There's another wagon!”

As he spoke, a bell clanged harshly and above the heads of the mob a car crowded with police could be seen forcing its way towards the center of the disturbance which appeared to be a large garage.

At this moment a huge, lumbering motor truck crept slowly from the garage door and an angry bellow rose from the crowd. But even an East Side mob must give way before a five-ton truck and the crowd, surging back to make way for the truck, swept around the boys and the two cars and engulfed them like a sea of rough clothes and angry, grimy faces.

”How the d.i.c.kens can we get clear now!” exclaimed Mr. Henderson, as to save themselves from being knocked down and trampled underfoot he and Rawlins leaped upon the running boards and flattened themselves against the body of the car.

”Expect we'll have to stick here until the crowd leaves,” replied Mr.

Pauling, and added, ”Unless they pick us up car and all and carry us out.”

Now the crowd was surging still farther back as though pressed by an irresistible force and above the bellowing, moving, multicolored wave of human heads and shoulders appeared a half-dozen mounted police, their well-trained horses forcing back the human wall which, despite jeers, taunts, threats and imprecations, gave way steadily before them.

As the police drew near and the crowd thinned out, one of the officers caught sight of the two cars and their occupants.

”Here you!” he shouted, urging his horse towards the car. ”Get them flivvers out o' here! Right about now and move lively!”

Mr. Pauling chuckled and Mr. Henderson grinned. ”Show us how!” cried back Mr. Pauling.

”No sa.s.sing back there!” stormed the policeman now riding close. ”Get a move on or I'll pinch the bunch of ye for interferin' with the police, resistin' an officer and blockadin' traffic. I'll get enough charges against ye to send youse to the island for a year.”

Mr. Henderson and Tom's father were shaking with laughter. ”Don't be foolish, officer. Don't you see we can't move?” Mr. Henderson asked.