Chapter 10 BY WAY OF THE HOUSE NEXT DOOR

The boys will never know how long it took to drive to the street and number given them by the poor Weasel. Arriving at the corner where the old brown stone house stood looking the picture of desolation, with its closely boarded-up windows, its dusty steps and seedy doors, the boys passed down the side street and left the car in the shadow of the buildings there. They separated and hurried back to the house, one at a time.

Slipping through the dense shadows in the weedy, cluttered-up back yard, a yard that had once been a trim garden with smooth paths and neat little hedges, as back yards were once in the olden days, they met under the iron fire-escape attached to the house next door. This building, much higher than the corner house, was used as a private sanitarium or hospital by one of the highest-priced specialists in the city. The fire-escape, therefore, was in perfect condition, and safe as such a spidery stairway could be made, with strong rails and good treads.

Porky whispered a word of command, and noiselessly the boys ascended. The night was pitch dark, but their eyes growing accustomed to the gloom, they made their way without a stumble. Reaching the place where the lower building met the taller one, they found they could not get from the stairway to the other roof. There was nothing for it but to go on up the remaining story, cross the roof of the building and drop down to the lower level. They tiptoed over the flat, pebbled roof, clung to the eaves, and one by one made the long drop in safety, the only damage being scratched and bruised palms as they sprawled on the rough roofing.

A glass skylight was set in the middle of the roof. They hurried to it and Hen, with a quick twist, worked it loose, and tipped it noiselessly back on the roof.

"Take off your shoes!" he whispered.

They felt their way down the rough ladder that led from the skylight to the attic, and stood motionless, scarcely breathing in the dense darkness.

Hen, who had the flashlight, feared to press the button. There was not a sound, save a little sputter which they rightly laid to the wireless machine which the Weasel had told them about. In a moment, (it seemed years) Hen decided that they must have light, even at the risk of discovery, and his flashlight illumined the room in which they stood. Immediately Porky pointed to the big chimney, and the pile of lumber stacked beside it. He touched the others, and led the way. They went noiselessly across the uneven floor, and reaching the boards, found, as the Weasel had said, a narrow opening in the floor.

As the three neared the bottom of the ladder, a scream, muffled and choked but full of agony, sounded close to them. The boys recognized that thin, boyish tone, even in its torture. They felt their hair rise on their scalps as they listened.

Quickly turning in the narrow, breathless space in which they found themselves, they saw a little star of light pierce the pitch blackness. It was the little peek hole made in the panel by the Weasel. Porky put his eye to the place. One instant he looked, and drew back as Hen pressed close. In turn they peered through the tiny hole. They shuddered as they did so. Then Hen, with all the caution he could summon, pushed open the door, and stepped out, covering the Wolf with a wicked-looking muzzle. The bound and gagged boy in the chair saw the strange group which had so suddenly and so mysteriously appeared, but for a moment the Wolf, who was standing with his back toward the wardrobe, was unaware of their presence. He was laughing-a cold-blooded, curdling, low laugh as he stooped toward the boy's bare feet, his lighted cigar in his hand. Already those feet were marred by cruel burns along the tender soles.

As he stopped, he watched his victim's eyes for a sign of surrender.

"Give me the names!" he demanded in his low snarling, smooth voice. He watched his victim's eyes and in them, suddenly, he saw a strange flash of hope, of amazement. Asa was looking over the Wolf's shoulder.

Without the least suspicion of the truth, the Wolf straightened up, and lazily turned. What lie saw wiped the sneering, malicious smile from his face.

Hen, his bulldog jaw set, held the revolver pointed straight at the traitorous heart.

"Hands up," barked Porky in a voice which seemed to come from some one else. He was not himself. The sight that had met his eyes, the bound figure, the blistered feet, the crouching Wolf with his low, fiendish laugh-it was all like a frightful electric shock to Porky, and in that horrible instant he came into his manhood. Behind him, at his shoulder, his twin brother went through the same agony of soul and he, too, felt a strange new thrill, an addition of courage and strength.

"Hands up!" said Porky again.

For a moment the sly eyes of the Wolf swept the room, then his hands were raised. He backed toward the table but a curt order from Hen, and he stood still.

"There's rope on that table," said Hen. "Get it and bind him."

Beany grabbed the rope, and bent to tie the ankles of the Wolf. Like a flash his hands came down, he seized the boy and clutching him in a vise-like grip, held him before him as a shield.

"Shoot if you like," he sneered, and backed rapidly toward the door. Hen followed, the useless pistol still pointed, but Beany's body covered the Wolf who, with the strength of ten, held Beany before him as he neared the door that would mean escape, and safety. He had almost reached it when a deafening noise sounded from below. There was the sound of a door being battered in, shots were fired, and shouts heard. For a second the Wolf faltered. For a second he was off his guard. In that second, Beany made a light, steel-muscled bound, swung his legs up and out, using the spy's breast as a brace, turned a somersault over his head, dropping to the floor behind him. It was so quick, so unexpected, that the Wolf could not keep his hold, and Beany dropped to the floor, crying, "Shoot!"

A revolver cracked, but it was in the Wolf's hand. Porky felt a sting as the bullet grazed his shoulder. Then Hen's weapon barked just once!

The revolver dropped from the Wolf's hand, a strange, blank look spread over his face, and he sank to his knees. Beany, flat on the floor behind him, jumped to his feet.

The door, which had been unlatched, swung violently open and for a second the face of Ledermann appeared, then flashed by as he saw the tableau, and dashed for the stairway to the attic and the roof. A dozen policemen ran in, three of them following Ledermann, at Porky's direction, while the others snapped the cuffs on the two men at the table, and tenderly took the cruel gag from Asa's parched and bleeding mouth, and untied him. Beany rushed up into the attic after the men who were pursuing Ledermann and as he reached the place, the call of the wireless caught his attention. He answered the call, and commenced to take down a long message.

Below, Porky and Hen knelt by the Wolf and turned him over. He still breathed, and Hen fumbled through his pockets for another revolver. He found instead a long, keen knife which he threw aside. Then, with Porky, he fell to watching the closed eyes of the spy. They opened, and the Wolf looked from one to the other with cold, unrelenting hatred. He did not speak.

"Buck up!" said Hen suddenly. His voice shook with excitement.

"Say, you don't want to croak yet. I got to tell you: the Weasel

said to tell you that he had bit. Understand? He has bit.

See?" Hen paused with a look of satisfaction.

The Wolf, who was bleeding fearfully, slowly closed his eyes.

"That ends him," said Hen solemnly. "Gosh!"

A detective felt the heart of the wounded man.

"He's alive," he said. "Send an ambulance call, somebody."

Another detective raced down the stairs, while those who remained commenced to search the room for hiding places.

"I know where he's got some stuff hidden," Asa said thickly. "Take off his shoe; the other one," and someone did so. "Get that iron thing on the table," Asa continued, "and get the heel off."

The Chief had it done in a moment and the tiny squares of paper fluttered to the floor. The Chief picked them carefully up, and put them in his pocketbook as a wild clanging down below announced the coming of the ambulance. A couple of doctors came up, three steps at a time, and examined the Wolf. A bandage soon stopped the flow of blood, and, still unconscious, he was carried down the stairs. A detective picked Asa up and prepared to follow, but that young man stiffened, the way a spunky boy sometimes does, and slid through the man's arms. As he came to his feet, he let out a howl of pain, and went to his knees. But he was speaking.

"Not with him!" he cried hoarsely. "Not with him! I won't go in the ambulance with the Wolf! He'll come to yet and kill somebody, and he'll blame me for the whole thing. I'd rather stay here."

"All right," said the Chief. "You need not go in the ambulance. I will carry you down to the police car, and we will take you right over to Mr. Leffingwell's."

He picked Asa up in his arms and carried him downstairs and into the first car. There was quite a procession of them when they finally started, after leaving a heavy guard in the house, and very soon they pressed the button at Mr. Leffingwell's door, which was opened by Barton, the butler.

"'Ow! Bless my 'art!" said Barton, quite like a human being, and stepped back. It was Timmins who stepped forward; Timmins who took Asa and bore him into the living room where Colonel Bright, Mr. Leffingwell, John, his son, and Mr. and Mrs. Potter all rose to their feet, when Timmins walked in. Mr. Leffingwell would have another doctor; and while they waited five minutes for him (he was right in the building) Asa, suffering pretty badly, but not giving a sign of it, except for his twitching face, lay on the settee, with Timmins fixing his pillows some other way every second, and Barton off ordering a hot drink from the cook, who had taken a peek, and was crying out in the kitchen.

Nobody knew anything about what the boys had been through, but nobody asked a word; only Porky and Beany kissed their mother hard, and hugged their dad, and were pounded on the back by Mr. Leffingwell, who seemed to have a bad cold. When the doctor came, he ordered Asa straight to bed, and Timmins carried him off with the haughty Barton stalking in the rear, a glass of egg and milk in one hand and hot chocolate in the other.