"If you are sure of all this, hadn't we better notify the police?" came from Sam. "Remember, we have not only Tad Sobber against us, but also old Crabtree, and one or two unknown men. In a hand-to-hand fight we might get the worst of it."

"That's a good idea, Sam. Run up to the corner and see if you can find a policeman," said d.i.c.k.

"I guess I know how to get to the rear of that building," mused Tom.

"I'll go through that alleyway and jump the fences," and he pointed to an alleyway several houses away.

"All right, Tom. You do that, and I'll get in the front way somehow. I'm not going to wait another minute. They may have seen us already, and be getting out by some way of which we know nothing."

Thus speaking, d.i.c.k mounted the porch and rapped loudly on the door with his bare knuckles. Tom ran off and disappeared down the alleyway he had pointed out.

d.i.c.k listened and then rapped again, this time louder than before. Then he heard a movement inside the house, but n.o.body came to answer his summons. He tried the door, to find it locked.

"Mrs. Sobber, who is that?" asked a trembling and high-pitched voice-the voice of the old man who owned the building.

"Oh, it's only a peddler; don't go to the door," answered a woman.

"I am not a peddler!" cried d.i.c.k. "I have business in this house, and I want to come in."

"You go away, or I'll set the dog on you!" cried the woman, and now d.i.c.k heard her moving around at the back of the hall.

"Mrs. Sobber, I want you to open this door!" went on d.i.c.k, sharply. "If you don't you'll get yourself into serious trouble."

"Want to be bit by the dog?"

"No, I don't want to be bit by a dog," answered d.i.c.k. He listened but heard nothing of such an animal. "I don't believe you have a dog. Will you open, or shall I bring a policeman."

"Mercy on us, a policeman!" gasped the woman. "No, no, don't do that!"

"What does this mean?" demanded the old man. "Open that door, Mrs.

Sobber, and let me see who is there. I don't understand this. Day before yesterday you brought those strange folks, and now--"

"Hush! hush!" interrupted the woman, in agitated tones. "Not another word, Mr. Mason. You are too old to understand. Leave it all to me. I will soon send that fellow outside about his business."

"This is my house, and I want to know what is going on here!" shrilled the old man, and d.i.c.k heard him tottering across the floor. "I'll open the door myself."

"No! no! not yet!" answered the woman.

"Mr. Mason, I want to come in!" cried d.i.c.k loudly. "There has been a crime committed. If you don't want to be a party to it, open the door."

"A crime," faltered the old man.

"Yes, a crime. Open the door at once!"

"No, no, you-er-you shall not!" stormed the woman, and d.i.c.k heard her shove the old man back.

"Mr. Mason, for the last time, will you let me in?" shouted d.i.c.k.

"Yes! yes!" answered the old man. "But Mrs. Sobber won't let me open the door."

"Then I'll open it myself," answered d.i.c.k, and hurled his weight against the barrier. It was old and dilapidated and gave way with ease; and a moment later d.i.c.k stepped into the hallway of the old house.

CHAPTER XXI FROM ONE CLUE TO ANOTHER

"Now, what do you want?" asked the old man, as he eyed d.i.c.k, curiously.

"I want to talk to that woman, first of all," cried d.i.c.k, and he pointed to Mrs. Sobber, who was just disappearing through a door in the rear of the hallway.

"But what does this mean?" went on Mr. Mason, in a faint voice. "I have done nothing wrong." And now he sank on a rush-bottomed chair, all out of breath. He was very old, and his hair and his face were exceedingly white.

"I'll be back and tell you," went on d.i.c.k. He could see at a glance that the old owner of the building had had nothing to do with the stealing of the fortune or the abduction of Mrs. Stanhope.

d.i.c.k ran to the door at the back of the hallway, to find it locked. He threw his weight against it, but it did not give way.

He was on the point of pushing on the door again, when a cry from the yard reached his ears.

"d.i.c.k! d.i.c.k! Come and stop them!" It was Tom who was calling.

"I'm coming, Tom!" he yelled back. And then he landed on the door with all his might.

"Don't br-break the door!" gasped the old man. "If you want to get out to the back, go up and down the stairs," and he pointed a trembling finger upward.

d.i.c.k understood, and ran up the front stairs three steps at a time. He pa.s.sed through a short hallway and then reached a stairs, running down to a back entry way. As he went down these stairs there came another cry from Tom.

"d.i.c.k! d.i.c.k! they are getting away!"

As fast as he could, d.i.c.k reached the entryway and threw open the outer door. He came out in a small yard, surrounded on three sides by a high board fence. At the rear was a gate, and this was wide open.

"Tom! you are hurt!" exclaimed d.i.c.k, as he caught sight of his brother flat on his back, and with the blood oozing from a cut on his forehead.

"Yes, the rascal hit me in the head with a club!" gasped poor Tom.

"What rascal?"

"Tad Sobber!"

"Where is he now?"

"Ran out of the gate-and a woman just followed him."

"Did you see anybody else?"

"No. Go after 'em," added the injured youth, pluckily.

"Are you badly hurt?"