“That’s a good idea, Sam. Run up to the corner and see if you can find a policeman,” said Dick.
“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, Dick 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.
Dick listened and then rapped again, this time louder than before. Then he heard a movement inside the house, but nobody 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 Dick. “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 Dick heard her moving around at the back of the hall.
“Mrs. Sobber, I want you to open this door!” went on Dick, sharply. “If you don’t you’ll get yourself into serious trouble.”