The Boy Broker Part 13

This discovery gave him slight hopes. The lock he judged to be one of the ordinary cheap ones such as his father always used on his cornhouse and barn doors. Now he had on several occasions opened these locks by means of a stiff wire, properly bent. Therefore, should this lock prove to be one of the same kind, and should fortune place within his reach a suitable piece of wire, or even a nail of the right sort, he felt that he could make good his escape from this cell.

"But should I succeed in this," he very prudently reasoned, "would I be any better off? That heavy trap door is undoubtedly fastened down, and, so far as I know, that is the only means of exit; but---- What is that?"

he suddenly said to himself, as he felt the cold shivers creep over him.

The sound continues. It seems like rasping or grating. Louder and more distinct it grows, as Herbert's imagination becomes more active.

Every sound to one in his situation, in that dark, lonesome cellar, could easily be interpreted to mean many forms of danger to him. But at length he reasons, from the irregular rasping, and from other slight evidences, that this noise is the gnawing of hungry rats.

What a frightful and alarming discovery this is to him! It strikes terror to his brave young heart, and makes cold beads of perspiration stand out upon his brow. And as these silent drops--the evidence of suffering--trickle down his face one by one, chilly and dispiriting, he grows sick to the very core.

Alone in a dark, damp cellar, with no means of defense--not even a stick, a knife, or any sort of implement to protect himself from the hordes of rats that now surround him.

This indeed is a night of terror to our young hero. He does not dare to throw himself upon the bench, lest he should sleep, and, sleeping, be attacked by these dreadful rats.

Accordingly, he commenced walking back and forth in his cell, as a caged tiger walks hour after hour from one end to the other of his narrow confines.

"This will keep me awake," said he to himself, with an attempt to rouse his spirits; "and it will also keep the rats away."

After he had paced thus for a time, he heard steps above him, and instantly he called out for aid. He called again and again, but the inhuman ear of old Gunwagner was deaf to his imploring cries.

The sound of footsteps was soon lost, and all was still save the gnawing of the rats. Herbert listened quietly for a time, to study their movements. Soon he heard them scampering about in all parts of the cellar. From the noise they made he judged them to be very large; and they were certainly bold, for now they were running about in contemptuous disregard of young Randolph's presence. Occasionally he would yell at them, and kick vigorously upon the framework of his cell.

By this means he kept them at a somewhat respectful distance.

And now his mind reverted again to the cause of his imprisonment. As the long, weary hours dragged by, he studied the matter with the utmost care, giving painstaking thought to the slightest details and the most trivial acts. His points were, consequently, well made. They were reasonable, logical, probable. The scheme broadened as he progressed.

What he had supposed to be a mere matter of revenge now loomed up clearly and distinctly before him as a bold plot against himself--a piece of outrageous villainy that fairly appalled him.

He saw Felix Mortimer in his place in the bank; saw himself looked upon by Mr. Goldwin with suspicion and disgust. And this feeling, he knew, would extend to his daughter--bright, winsome Ray.

It was odd that Herbert should think of her in this connection, while in such mental agony. He had seen her but once, and then only for a minute. True, she was wonderfully pretty, and her manner was irresistibly attractive, but young Randolph was of a serious turn of mind. No, he was not one to become infatuated with any girl, however charming; he never had been, and, to use his own language, he did not propose to become so.

But he could not help thinking of Ray in connection with this matter. He recalled how her sunny presence lighted up the bank that very afternoon, and in imagination he saw her bright, mischievous blue eyes, brimful of fun and merriment, as he handed her into her carriage.

"She did look sweet, confounded if she didn't," said Herbert to himself, forgetting for the time his sorrow; "sweet and pretty as a peach, and her cheeks had the same rich, delicate tint. Her hair---- Great Scott!"

e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed young Randolph, suddenly awaking to what he had been saying.

"Another evidence of my being a fool. I'd better have stayed on the farm," he continued, more or less severely.

[Ill.u.s.tration: YOUNG RANDOLPH AT LAST FALLS ASLEEP EXHAUSTED.]

"Well, I'm a prisoner," he said, sadly, after a thoughtful pause. "It doesn't matter much what I think or say. But, somehow or other, I wish I had never seen her," he continued, meditatively. "Now she will think of me only with contempt, just as her father will. Of course she will; it would be only natural."

Exhausted, weary, and even overburdened with oppressive thought, he sat down on the wooden bench in his cell. The rats still gnawed and frolicked, and prowled at will. Herbert listened to them for a moment; then he thought of his dear mother and father, of his home, his own comfortable bed.

A stray tear now stole down his cheeks, and then another. The poor boy was overcome, and he gave way to a sudden outburst of grief. Then he rested his head in his hand, and tried to think again. But his mind was wearied to exhaustion.

"My mother, my mother and father! Oh, how I wish I could see them! What would they do if they only knew where I am?"

He paused after this utterance; and now his thoughts suddenly ceased their weary wanderings. All was quiet, and the long measured breathing gave evidence that our young hero slept.

CHAPTER XII.

BOB'S BRILLIANT MOVE.

"But I say, Bob, I don't jest see how we are goin' to get into that den," said Tom Flannery, thoughtfully, as he and his companion hurried along towards old Gunwagner's.

"Don't you?" replied Bob, carelessly, as if the matter was of trivial importance.

"No, I don't. Do you, Bob?"

"Do you think, Tom Flannery, that a detective is goin' to tell all he knows--is goin' to give away the game before it's played?" said Bob, with feigned displeasure.

He asked this question to evade the one put to him.

"I thought they always told them as was in the secret, don't they?"

"Well, I must say you have some of the ignorantest ideas of any boy I ever see," said Bob, with a.s.sumed surprise.

Young Flannery looked sad, and made no reply.

"The trouble with you, Tom, is that you worry too much," continued the juvenile detective.

"I ain't worryin', Bob. What made you think that? I only wanted to know what's the racket, an' what I've got to do."

"Well, you s'pose I bro't you up here to do somethin', don't you?"

"Of course you did, Bob. But what is it? That's what I want to know."

"You ask more questions than any feller I ever see, Tom Flannery. Now you jest tell me what any detective would do, on a case like this one is, and tell me what he'd want you to do, an' then I'll tell you what I want you to do."

Tom looked grave, and tried hard to think.

The fact of the matter is that Bob himself hardly knew what step to take next, in order to carry out the plan he had formed. But his reputation was at stake. He thought he must make a good showing before Tom, though the matter of gaining an entrance to Gunwagner's was far from clear to him. He therefore wanted Tom's opinion, but it would not do to ask him for it, so he adopted this rather sharp device.

"Blamed if I can tell, Bob, what a detective would do," replied Tom.

"You see I ain't no natural detective like you. But I should think he'd swoop down on the den and scoop it."

"And that's what you think a reg'lar detective would do?"

"Yes. I don't see nothin' else for him to do."

"Well, how would he do it?"

"I ain't no detective, Bob, so I don't know."

"I didn't s'pose you did know, Tom Flannery, so now I'll tell you,"

said Bob, who had seized upon his companion's suggestion. "A regular detective, if he was in my place, and had you to help him, would do jest what I'm going to do, and that is to send you into the den first, to see what you can find out."