There in the road before him, not ten rods away, was a smoky lantern, throwing but a pallid radiance about it in the thick darkness, but lighting a great hope in the father’s heart. He approached directly, drew up his horse a few yards away, found that the lantern, tied to a twig by the roadside, was decorated with the specified ribbons of black and white, returned to his buggy, carried the bags of gold to the lantern, put them down in the roadside, waited a few moments for any sign that might be given, turned his horse about, and started for home, driving slowly and listening intently for any sound from his expected son. The ten miles back to Omaha were covered in this slow and tense way, with eyes and ears open, and a mind fluctuating between hope and despair. But no lost boy came out of the darkness, and Cudahy reached his house without the least further encouragement. It was then past eleven o’clock. His attorney and his wife were still in the drawing-room, sleepless, tense, and terrified. They greeted the boy’s father with swift questions and relapsed into hopelessness when he related what he had done. An hour passed, while Cudahy tried to keep up the courage of his wife by argument and reasoning. Then came one o’clock. Now half past one. Surely there was no longer any need of waiting now. Either the kidnappers had hoaxed the suffering parents, or that note had not come from kidnappers at all, but from impostors--or--something far worse. At best, nothing would be heard till morning. “It’s no use, Mrs. Cudahy,” said the lawyer. “You’d better get what sleep you can, and----” “Hs-s-sh!” said the mother, laying her finger on her lips and listening like a hunted doe. In an instant she sprang out of her chair, ran into the hall, out of the door, down the walk to the street, and out of the gate. The two men sprang up and followed in time to see her catch the missing boy into her arms. She had heard his footfall. The news of the boy’s return was flashed to police headquarters within a few minutes, and the detective chief went at once to the Cudahy home to hear the returning boy’s story. It was simple and brief enough. Eddie Cudahy had left Doctor Rustin’s house the night before, and gone directly homeward. Three or four doors from his parents’ house Eddie Cudahy was suddenly confronted by two men who faced him with revolvers, called him Eddie McGee, declared that he was wanted for theft, that they were officers, and that he must come to the police station. He protested that he was not Eddie McGee, and that he could be identified in the house yonder; but his captors forced him into their buggy and drove off, warning him to make no outcry. They had gone only a few blocks when they changed their tone, tied the lad’s arms behind him, and put a bandage over his eyes and another over his mouth, so that he could not cry out. He understood that he had been kidnapped.