Part 17 (1/2)
CHAPTER XV.
BOB AND HERBERT MEET.
”Well, I can't understand it,” said Felix, as he and the old fence came up from the cellar. ”He certainly isn't down there.”
”No, he ain't here, that's sure,” replied Gunwagner; ”but if it was the newsboy, you can be sure he will show up again in a way not very good for us.”
”So I think,” a.s.sented Mortimer.
”Then we must capture him, that's all.”
”I wish we could. You see he might go to old Goldwin again, and tell him he saw me here.”
”Yes, or go to the police headquarters and raise a row,” suggested Gunwagner, gloomily.
”I didn't think of that. Well, as you say, the only thing for us to do is to capture him and get him where he won't make trouble for us.”
”The whole game will be lost, and we will be pulled by the police unless we do so.”
”You might's well count your game lost, then,” said Bob to himself, for he had now renewed hope of carrying through his scheme. But he was nearly paralyzed with pain, from the cramped and uncomfortable position in which he had remained so long. He felt, however, that he was doing a great detective act, so he bore up under his sufferings with heroic fort.i.tude.
”Suppose the police should drop on us, and find Randolph in the cellar?”
suggested young Mortimer.
The thought evidently alarmed old Gunwagner. His face and whole manner showed that it did.
”If they should do that, we would go to Sing Sing,” returned he, grimly.
Felix Mortimer possessed an extremely cool nerve, but the words ”Sing Sing” did not fall upon his ears like sweet music.
”I wish we could get him out of the way,” said he, with manifest anxiety. ”It must be done tomorrow.”
”There's no time to lose, I feel sure. But what shall be done with him?”
”He must be put where he will never blow on us.”
”Of course he must.”
”It's a bad job--a dirty, bad job--that's what I call it. I only wish you'd kept away from me with your devilish scheme,” said the old villain, petulantly.
”It's no time to talk about that now,” returned Mortimer, coolly. ”You are in for it as well as I, so we must work together.”
”We must, must we?” hissed the old man, wickedly.
”Yes,” said Mortimer, with a determined manner, that made the old outlaw cower and cringe. Felix Mortimer possessed the stronger character of the two, and, now he was aroused, Gunwagner was subservient to his will.
”Unless you show yourself a man now, I will leave you to fight it out alone,” continued Felix. ”I can take care of myself. Randolph is on your hands, and here the police will find him.”
Low, profane mutterings from the old culprit's mouth now filled the air.