His father laughed. “You’ve forgotten the war’s over and done with and there are no spies,” he replied. “No, my boy, he’s not even a German. But you’ll have to wait a bit before I can tell you anything more.”
“Well, where did you send those policemen, then?” asked Tom. “You can tell me that.”
Mr. Pauling’s eyes twinkled. “They’ve gone to get your phantom radio man,” he replied. “Henderson’s men couldn’t find him before, but I’ll wager we located him this time. You see, Reilly happened to know about that old sewer and he says it runs under the block where you located the
sender of those odd messages. Henderson thinks if he finds one he’ll find the other. We’ll run around past there and see if anything is happening.”
As Frank and Henry crowded into the little car, the boys saw a stretcher bearing a shrouded form being carried from their workshop to an ambulance, and the next moment they were moving slowly through the crowd which reluctantly made way before the insistent screams of the horn.
Close behind them came another car with Mr. Henderson and Rawlins and a moment later they were through the crowd and speeding towards the block to which Mr. Pauling had dispatched the police.
As they swung around a corner they saw a surging, densely packed throng blocking the street, while from beyond came the sounds of shouts and cries. Above the heads of the people the boys could see the glaring brass and shining paint of two patrol cars and, moving here and there, rising and falling as if tossed about upon a troubled sea, the low-visored, flat-topped caps of policemen.
“Can’t get through there!” declared Mr. Pauling,
as his horn screeched and fell on unheeding ears. “Looks like a riot!”
Mr. Henderson had leaped from his car and was beside them. “Guess the men found something,” he remarked. “I’ll push through and see what’s up.”