“Who are you? What do you want? How dare you break in here?” demanded one.
“You’ll find out soon enough who I am, and why I came!” cried Larry boldly. “I came for that boy. We chased you in the motorboat to-day, and now I’ve found you. Come on in!” he yelled, looking back at the smashed door, as though he had a force to aid him.
“It is all up! Fly!” yelled the other man, adding something in Italian to his companion.
Larry had a glimpse of a second room opening out of the bed-chamber. It was a room with a fire-escape showing at the window. The man made for this, calling to his companion to follow. But the latter, with an angry cry, sprang toward the boy.
Fearing that some harm might be intended the lad, Larry, with a quick motion, leaped over the upset table. In a second he confronted the man. Baffled in his intention, the fellow raised his hand to strike our hero.
But Larry was not there when the blow came. The young reporter cleverly dodged, and the kidnapper almost overbalanced himself. In a flash, Larry saw his advantage and hit out at him.
This blow found its mark, and the man went down with a crash that shook the room. He uttered a growl of rage as he scrambled to his feet, and again made a rush at our hero.
“That ought to bring help!” thought Larry as he stood on guard, after casting a glance at Lorenzo. “They must have heard him fall all over the hotel.”
But no one came, and the man, with a snarl of anger, again struck out. Larry dodged once more, and the boxing lessons he had taken stood him in good stead.
“It’s queer he doesn’t call out for help!” mused Larry rapidly. Indeed he had but little time to think of anything else but defending himself, and getting things in shape so that he might rescue the stolen boy. Silently, but with a look of hate on his face, the man recovered himself quickly, and made another attempt to hit Larry.