“I have it!” thought the young reporter. “This man dare not call out. He knows no one would come to help him! He daren’t give himself away. That’s why the other one skipped out! I’m going to tackle him, and make all the noise I want to!”
Larry dodged a severe blow, stooping down under the man’s arm, and the next instant he came up inside the guard of the kidnapper. There was a short, sharp struggle, in which the man was hurled forcibly against the wall, again jarring the whole room. But still no one came to interrupt the fight.
“I guess they must be used to rows like this in the hotel,” mused the young reporter.
But the fight could not last long. Out of the corner of his eye Larry could see that little Lorenzo was terribly frightened. The boy might get so alarmed that he would slip away, and then our hero would have all his tracing to do over again.
“I’m going to close in!” whispered Larry to himself, and, a moment later, he hurled himself on the kidnapper, catching him unawares, and nearly taking the wind out of him.
Larry forced the man against the wall, pinning him by the shoulder with his left hand, while he raised his right, ready to drive it into the kidnapper’s face.
“Give it up, you scoundrel!” cried Larry.
The man, with one look into the eyes of the young reporter, weakened. Larry had won, and he had captured at least one of the kidnappers, and recovered the stolen boy.
“Quick, Lorenzo!” cried Larry to the small chap. “Ring the bell for help. Keep pushing the button,” and he motioned to an electric one on the wall near the door. “Ring as if the place was on fire. I’ll attend to this chap.”
All the fight seemed to be taken out of the fellow. He was like a child in Larry’s grasp, though he was bigger than our hero. Lorenzo rang like mad, and soon the corridor outside the room was filled with bell-boys, chambermaids, waiters and porters. Then it was all up with the kidnapper. He was bound.