“You don’t think I’m a burglar now, do you?” asked Larry of Mr. Randall. “No, no,” said the old man hastily. “That was all a mistake.” “What’s that about burglars?” asked the officer. Whereupon Larry told how Mr. Randall had mistaken him for a robber as he was escaping from the factory. “We’ll raid that place,” said the policeman, “but I guess they’ll skip out as soon as they find you’re gone.” And this proved to be so. When, after Larry’s arrival at the station, a note of his having been found was telephoned to police headquarters, a squad of bluecoats started for the old factory. They found it deserted. “I suppose I can go home now?” said Larry, when he had complied with all formalities. The sergeant behind the desk nodded and smiled at the lad. “I’ll take you,” spoke Mr. Randall. “I don’t want to see you kidnapped again before your mother has a chance to look at you.” He insisted on going all the way with the boy, and into the Dexters’ rooms. Such excitement as there was when Larry burst in on them! Mrs. Dexter was in despair, and Mr. Newton, who was trying to comfort her with the hope that her son would soon be found, was not succeeding very well. Mrs. Dexter threw her arms about Larry, and hugged him and kissed him as only a mother can. James and Mary capered about their brother and Lucy fairly cried for joy. “Bless my soul! What a cold I have!” Mr. Randall said, blowing his nose with unnecessary violence, and, under pretense of it, wiping the tears from his eyes, which flowed at the sight of Mrs. Dexter’s joy. “Most extraordinary weather for colds I ever saw, isn’t it?” appealing to Mr. Newton. “It certainly is,” agreed the reporter. Larry had to tell his story all over again, and then Mr. Randall had to relate his share in it. Then Larry had to be told all that had happened since he was kidnapped, and the clock was striking midnight when they all got through. “Do you think they’ll ever arrest those men?” asked Mr. Randall of Mr. Newton. “I hardly think so,” was the answer. “They are probably far enough off now. Besides they were only tools in the hand of someone else. The real criminal is the well-dressed man Larry describes. We may be able to catch him.” “Young man, you’re quite a hero,” the old gentleman exclaimed suddenly, turning to Larry. “I wouldn’t have climbed across those window sills for a pile of money.” “I wouldn’t have done it for money, either,” said Larry. “But I wanted to get away. Besides, it was dark and I couldn’t see how far it was to fall if I had looked down, which I didn’t dare do.” “I guess your picture’ll be in the papers to-morrow,” said Lucy to her brother.