CHAPTER XXIII

  The Plight of the Innocent

  If the information that had come over the wire from an unknownwas correct there was not a moment to be lost in telephoning.

  It was a masculine voice that had sounded in the 'phone and themessage was to the effect that the sender of the message had justobserved two men forcing the rear entrance of Kahn's drygoodsstore.

  "And hearing that 'The Blade' is trying to catch the burglarsI thought I'd just let you know," the voice had continued. "ButI guess you'll have to be quick if you want a sight of the burglars.They'll probably get away in quick order."

  Then had come the ring-off, just as Dick had tried to get thename of his informant.

  Now Dick was sprinting toward the scene by the shortest routethat he could think of.

  Kahn's store was on Main Street, but the rear entrance, used forthe receipt of goods opened in off an alleyway that ran parallelwith Main Street.

  "There can't be much time to spare," muttered Dick, looking hardfor a policeman.

  At this late hour of the night the streets that Dick traveledin his haste were bare of pedestrians.

  "I wish I had had time to get Dave," though Prescott. "But thatwould have lost at least five minutes more. And Dave wasn't goingto be ready to go out until he came around for me nearer midnight."

  Dick was at the head of the alley, now, an moving cautiously,eyes wide open and ears on the alert.

  How dark it was down in here! Dick wondered, a moment, at thekeenness of vision that had enabled some neighbor to see whatwas going on over in this dark place.

  In his pocket, at the time of receiving the message, Prescotthad placed a pocket electric "search-light."

  This he thought of, now, but he did not deem it wise to go flashingthe light about unless he had to.

  "The first point in my information is right, anyway," mutteredDick. "The rear door of Kahn's is open."

  Moving in the shadow of the building, he had paused not far awayfrom the door in question.

  "There were two of the fellows, the message said," muttered Dick."In that case, I should think one would have been left outside asa lookout. However, the lookout may be just a little way insideof the door. It won't do to use my light now. I'll see if I canslip in and get close to the lookout before the thieves knowthere's anyone around."

  A step at a time Prescott softly reached the open door. He paused,listening intently.

  "I don't hear a sound in there. I guess I'd better take a fewvery soft steps inside, and see if I can discover where the roguesare. That is, unless they have already bagged their booty, andhave gotten away again."

  Just inside of the open door, Dick halted again. He listened,but there was no sound.

  "These scoundrels are surely the original mice for soft moving,"muttered the boy grimly. "What part of the establishment canthey be in? Hadn't I better slip out and get the police? I can'tlearn anything in here unless I use my light."

  Yet Prescott didn't want to turn on that flare. The light wasmuch more likely to show him up to the burglars than to enablehim to find men who were not making a sound.

  So Dick penetrated a little further, and a little further, listening.As he moved he was obliged to grope his way.

  At last, however, he found himself confused as to the points ofthe compass. In this darkness, he was not even sure which wasthe way out.

  "I'll have to use the flash now," concluded Dick.

  Taking the long tube from one of his pockets, he pressed the buttonbriefly, giving a flash that lasted barely a second.

  "What was that?" muttered the boy, with a start, as the lightwent out.

  Clearly enough, now, he heard stealthy steps. He was almost certain,too, that he distinguished the sound of low whispers.

  "That flash has scared the rascals," throbbed Dick Prescott."Now, if I can only locate 'em, and get out first! I may succeedin getting the police to the scene before both get away. Oneof 'em, anyway, I ought to be able to floor with this heavy cane!"

  Transferring the light to his left hand, Dick took a strong gripof the cane. It did not eyed occur to him to be afraid in here.He was trying to trap the burglars as a piece of enterprise for"The Blade," and that was all he thought about.

  Suddenly there was a more decided step in the darkness. It sounded,too, right in advance of the boy who stood there guessing in the dark.

  "Halt, where you are!" shouted Dick. "And throw up your handsas high as you can, if you don't want to get drilled! Don't tryto use your weapons, for I have the drop!"

  It was sheer bluff, for the only thing with which Prescott couldclaim the drop was his cane.

  Yet, in such circumstances, a bold front is half the battle.

  Prescott bounded forward, boldly, at the same moment turning onhis light.

  The next moment, though he held the light, the cane dropped fromhis nerveless fingers.

  "We've got you, Prescott!" roared a voice. "And you? Of allthe thundering big surprises. But we've got you! Stop all nonsenseand get in line to come along with us."

  It was the chief of police, backed by three of his men, whom Dicknow faced. They had thrown their lights on, too, so that therewas now plenty of illumination.

  Nor was this Chief Coy, one of Dick's old time friends, but ChiefSimmons, a new man appointed only a few months before.

  Chief Simmons was almost frantically anxious to catch the burglaror burglars, for their continued operations reflected upon hisabilities as the new police chief.

  All in a flash young Prescott took in the horrifying idea thatChief Simmons believed him to be the real burglar.

  "But I-----" began Dick chokingly.

  "Yes, you will!" retorted Chief Simmons. "You can't put up anyfight, and you can't make any denial."

  "I-----"

  "Take him, you men, and handcuff him." roared the chief. "Thenwe'll go through the rest of the store, and see what we can learn."

  Dick drew back, with a shudder, as two of the officers came towardhim, intent on carrying out their chief's order.

  "You'd better submit, Prescott," warned the chief sternly. "We'renot in a mood to stand any fooling."

  "But won't you listen-----" began Dick, gasping.

  "I'm not the trial judge," jeered Simmons. "Still, I'll listento you all you want, later in the night. Now, stand forward!"

  Dick realized the folly and the uselessness of defying the police.He moved nearer to the chief, as ordered. And Prescott beganto understand how black the whole affair looked for him.

  But how had it happened?

  He would have given worlds to know.

  "Hold your hands forward, and together," commanded Chief Simmons.

  Quivering, flushing with the shame of the thing, young Prescottobeyed. The officer who fitted the handcuffs to the boy's wristsfelt ashamed of his work, for he had always been one of Dick'sfriends.

  The click of the steel ratchets brought Prescott back to a realizationof things.

  "I'm not much of a catch, chief," muttered the boy. "You'd betternot be content with me alone. Leave me under watch and then therest of you had better spread through this place. I think thereare others here---the men you seek."

  "You've confederates here, have you?" demanded Simmons, fixinghis suspicious gaze on the boy. "Judkins, you watch Prescott---andmind you don't let him give you the slip. The rest of us willkeep on going through this store. You say you think there areothers here, Prescott?"

  "I think so," replied the boy.

  Chief Simmons raised his voice.

  "If there's anyone here-----" he called.

  "There is!" came back in a tone that made Dick Prescott startand throb with alarm.

  "Who---where---" asked Chief Simmons, excitedly.

  "Right here!" came the voice. "Hold your lights on me!"

  Two flash-lights at once centered their rays on the speaker, andDave Darrin bounded forward into the light.

  "So you two have been workin
g this thing as side partners, haveyou?" asked Chief Simmons harshly. "Great Scott, how you've fooledus, then! Like everyone else, we believed you two boys to bestraight. Tell me," commanded Simmons dryly, "is Editor Pollockin this store-robbing gang, too?"

  "Ask Mr. Pollock yourself," Dave flung back.

  "I will, when I get time," retorted Simmons. "Grab Darrin and putthe irons on his wrists, too!"