“Clyde Blake!”
“That’s what I think. Maybe we can catch him at his home!”
“If Blake is our man, we’ll get him!” Mr. Parker said tersely. “We may need help though.”
Reentering the Tower building, he telephoned police headquarters, asking that a patrol wagon be sent for Hank Holloway, Charley Phelps, and the other prisoners.
“Send a squad to Clyde Blake’s home,” he added crisply. “I’ll meet your men there and provide all the evidence they’ll need to make the arrests.”
Jerry, Salt, and the two reporters were instructed to remain at the Tower pending the arrival of the patrol wagon. There was slight danger that any of the prisoners could escape for all the captives had been locked into the machinery room.
Delaying only long enough to obtain the case of sound equipment hidden beneath the daybed, Mr. Parker and Penny hastened to the waiting press car.
“Dad,” she marveled as they passed near a street light, “you should see your eye! It’s turning black. Someone must have pasted you hard.”
“Never mind that now,” he returned indifferently. “We’re out for a big story, and we’re going to get it too!”
The police cruiser which had been summoned was not in sight by the time Mr. Parker and Penny reached the Blake home. At first glance, the house seemed to be dark. However, a dim light glowed from the windows of one of the upstairs, rear bedrooms.