“He is a strange character, Mr. Keene; but I believe he would not deceive me. In fact, I am positive he would not. I even became convinced by his own actions that he was false to me, yet in the end he proved himself true as steel, and he saved my life. I am satisfied he spoke the truth when he told me how Abe was captured, and how he followed the kidnappers to that house. I have left him there to watch the house. On you I must depend for aid in rescuing the boy.” “You shall have it,” declared Bial Keene, as he rose to his feet. “We will lose no time.” He flung open the door to the outer room and called: “Jones!” “Yes, sir,” was the answer, as the man outside appeared. “Jones, go to police headquarters and tell them that I need six of their best men in plain clothes. Tell them the department shall have the entire credit of an important piece of work, if those six men are sent without delay to the corner of Euclid Avenue and Tenth Street. Not a moment must be lost. Accompany the officers to the same corner. That’s all.” “Yes, sir.” Instantly Jones wheeled and hastened from the office. “Are you armed, Mr. Merriwell?” asked Keene quietly. “I am not. I do not habitually carry a weapon.” The detective opened a drawer and picked out a business-like revolver. “Slip this into your pocket,” he directed. “You may need it.” Frank took the pistol, and Keene then armed himself with two revolvers, after which he slipped on his topcoat and clapped on his head a hat with a wide, slouching brim. “Come, Mr. Merriwell,” he said. “We’re off to see what we can do.” CHAPTER XXV. THE SIGNAL WHISTLE. The door of the shadowed house on Euclid Avenue opened and two bearded men came out. As they descended the steps they mumbled in low tones to each other. Neither of them saw certain shadowy figures lurking in the dark places, nor suspected the fact that the house was under surveillance. Nor did they become aware of the fact that they were followed as they walked away. These men were the ruffians, Sam and Bill, who had kidnapped the hunchback boy. From the house they proceeded to a saloon several blocks away. Entering this saloon, they sat down at a table in a little back room and ordered drinks. “Well, pal,” growled Bill, “we’ve got our coin.” “Yes, we’ve got it,” returned the other, “and I suppose we ought to be satisfied.” “Are you satisfied?” “I call it a measly, bum price for the job we done.” They drank the liquor placed before them and ordered cigars. “At the very least,” declared Sam, “the gent should have paid us a hundred apiece.” Bill nodded. “You’re right about that, pal. He was right eager to git his paws on that kid. I wonder just what he wanted hunchy for?” “No telling. I dunno; but I do know he wanted him a heap bad.”