“I see,” agreed the city editor, with a laugh at Larry’s boyish explanation. “And yet the kidnappers must know that Madame Androletti is aware that her son has been spirited away.”
“Of course. And yet if she continues to act quietly, as she has done, it may make them curious to find out what her game is, and they may not carry out their original plan, whatever it is. Then, too, there’s no doubt but what this is done for a ransom, and sooner or later an offer will come from the fellows who have the boy, stating how much they want to return him.”
“I suppose so. There ought to be a heavier punishment for kidnapping than at present. Well, get along, Larry.”
The young reporter lost no time in reaching the apartments of the singer. She had several rooms in a large hotel, on Murray Hill, New York, where she and her maid stayed. Up to the time he was taken away from the theater, her son had also been there.
Larry found Madame Androletti in tears, but she soon composed herself, and began to tell her story.
“I have heard something about you, since I met you last night,” she said, by way of preface.
“Nothing unpleasant, I hope,” spoke Larry.
“On the contrary, good. I was talking with my maid about you. She has been in this country some time, and she reads much of your papers. You are the reporter, are you not, who solved the Wall Street bank mystery?”
“Yes, I was lucky enough to do that,” replied Larry.
“And you also searched for and found Mr. Potter, the missing millionaire. Ah, I have sung at his charming house.”