Tom’s senses had now fully returned.
“Yes, Dad,” he replied. “I do now. Did Mr. Rawlins tell you about it? Gee! We did have a time! Are those men here?”
“Safe and sound, Tom!” Mr. Henderson’s voice assured him. “That is, one of ’em is. The other’s in bad shape.”
“Yes, Rawlins told us something of what happened,” put in his father as Tom rose unsteadily to his feet. “Look out, Son! You’re weak yet. Sit down or you’ll go off again.”
Leaning on his father’s arm, Tom staggered to
the proffered chair and dropped weakly into it. Then he gazed about the room and at the crowd of men within it.
His father and Mr. Henderson, Rawlins, Frank and Henry were there. Near-by, was a strange, heavy-jawed man and beyond, near the door, were half a dozen policemen. But where were the two divers they had captured under the river? Then Tom saw that a heavily built, tow-headed man stood between two of the blue coats, his hands manacled and a sullen glare in his piglike eyes while, half hidden beyond two stooping men, was a form stretched upon the floor. But before he could form a question his father was giving quick sharp orders to the men.
“Get the Navy Yard!” he commanded, and as the heavy-jawed man jumped to the telephone, he snapped out: “Tell the commandant that Pauling’s speaking.” Then, before the operator had even asked the number, Mr. Pauling was uttering commands to the police. “Leave a couple of men here to guard the prisoners and get over to that block quick as you can. Get all available men you can pick up. Draw a cordon around it and don’t
let any one in or out. Take my car! It’s up to you fellows to nab this bunch—if they haven’t got wise. On the jump now, Reilly! Take every one and everything that seems suspicious! Get me?”
Even before his last word rang out the policemen were hurrying towards the street, and an instant later, Tom heard the roar of their motor and the clang of their bell as the patrol dashed off.