Frank Merriwell and Wiley were standing in the dark shadow of a building almost directly across the street from the house into which the hunchback lad had been taken. Having completed his business in St. Joseph sooner than he thought he could, Merry returned to his hotel in Kansas City and found Wiley almost tearing his hair in despair. Overjoyed by Frank’s appearance, the sailor lost no time in telling how he had dined with Abe in the restaurant, had left the boy outside to return for his pipe, and, on again leaving the restaurant, had seen the unfortunate lad bundled into the cab and carried off. Fleet of foot as a deer, Wiley had followed the cab, but had found no opportunity to rescue the captured boy. Nevertheless, he had spotted the house into which Abe was taken, had obtained its number, and the name of the street, and was contemplating the advisability of appealing to the police when Frank showed up. Merry commanded the sailor to take him to the house. “Unless he was taken out as soon as they brought him here,” asserted Wiley, “he is still there.” “An obvious fact, if you have made no error. Cap’n, I am afraid I will never be able to trust you again. Whenever I do you fail me. I warned you to look out for Abe.” “Crush not my sensitive spirits with incrimination,” entreated the marine marvel. “Why should I have anticipated trouble for Abe at such a time? Your enemies seemed beaten to a white froth, and before you I fancied there was nothing but peace and salubrity.” “Whenever I crush one enemy,” muttered Frank, “it seems that another rises to take his place.” “You are certain this is a plot of your enemies?” “What else can it be? Why should any one kidnap that boy unless they did it to injure me in some manner?” “Ask me a question upon which I can expatiate astutely. This one is too much for me, Frank. What are you going to do?” “I am going to find Abe.” “How? How are you going to get into that house? If you demand admission it will be refused.” “I can appeal to the police.” “Yes, but——” “But first I shall see Bial Keene.” “Who is Bial Keene?” “One of the cleverest private detectives in the country. I have employed him before, and I know his ability.” “Then it’s up to you, Frank, to put your mud hooks onto him at once, and get him into the game. Time is valuable. Some gazaboo once observed that time is money, but I notice that I have a great deal more time than money.” “Wiley,” said Merry, “I want you to stay right here and shadow this house. Don’t take your eyes off it for a moment. I am going to find Bial Keene, if possible.” “Yours to command. I will stick to that house like glue. Depend on me for that, Frank.” “If you see anything that leads you to believe Abe is being removed from the house, follow him.” “Ay, ay, sir. When it comes to that little trick, Wind-jammer Wiley is the boy!”