“The two whom Parloti signaled in the theater,” decided Larry. “His tools. He makes them do all the risky work. But what is his object? Why is he delaying? Why doesn’t he come out in the open, and demand the money or a share in the property as the price for returning the boy? I can’t understand it.”
Larry walked back and forth in the deserted room. The woman opened a window to air the place. A little breeze sprang up and blew about the litter on the floor. A piece of paper landed at Larry’s feet.
Idly he picked it up. At once he knew it for the same kind of wrapping paper on which Lorenzo had written his letter. Larry turned the scrap over. To his surprise, it showed writing.
There, as if it stared up at him, he read this:
You Ron
Lorenzo.
“By Jove! Maybe this means something!” cried the young reporter.
CHAPTER XIX
CRUISING ABOUT
“What is it? What have you found?” asked the woman, whose name, Larry learned, was Mrs. Christensen. “Is it something to tell about the poor little feller?”
“I hope so,” replied Larry. “It’s signed with his name, anyhow. But I can’t understand what ‘You Ron’ means.”