"
"You've been lying to me, then," cried the old man, "and you're as bad
as any of them, and my boy's over in that house now."
He scrambled up from the stoop, and before the trailer could
understand what he proposed to do, had dashed across the street and up
the stoop, and up the stairs, and had burst into room No. 8.
Snipes tore after him. "Come back! come back out of that, you old
fool!" he cried. "You'll get killed in there!" Snipes was afraid to
enter room No. 8, but he could hear from the outside the old man
challenging Alf Wolfe in a resonant angry voice that rang through the
building.
"Whew!" said Snipes, crouching on the stairs, "there's goin' to be a
muss this time, sure!"
"Where's my son? Where have you hidden my son?" demanded, the old man.
He ran across the room and pulled open a door that led into another
room, but it was empty. He had fully expected to see his boy murdered
and quartered, and with his pockets inside out. He turned on Wolfe,
shaking his white hair like a mane. "Give me up my son, you rascal
you!" he cried, "or I'll get the police, and I'll tell them how you
decoy honest boys to your den and murder them."
"Are you drunk or crazy, or just a little of both?" asked Mr.
Pages:
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132