The Man Who Fell Through the Earth

“Thanks,” she said, as she grasped it and plied it diligently; “now, men, we must get busy! It’s after five o’clock, Olive went away before four, – anything may have happened to her – we must rescue her!”

“We will!” exclaimed Case Rivers, showing more energy than I knew he possessed. “What about ‘The Link,’ Mr. Brice?”

As quickly as I could, I detailed what had happened at the telegraph office, where Sadie Kent had been taken into custody by Hudson’s men.

“Did she go quietly?” asked Penny Wise.

“She did not!” I returned; “she put up a fearful fight, tore up a lot of papers from a desk drawer, and lit into the policemen like a tiger cat! She tried to bite Hudson, and yet, he was the one who kind-heartedly let her telephone to her mother.”

“What!” cried Rivers, “he let her do that!”

“I did it myself, really,” I said; and I told how Sadie had begged for the privilege.

“There you are!” Rivers said, positively. “That telephone message was not to her mother!”

“But I called her up,” I explained, “and she said she was Mrs. Kent.”

“That may be,” and Rivers shook his head; “but, don’t you see, that was a code call, – a warning. The person who received it, mother or grandmother, caught on to the state of things and set machinery in motion that resulted in the kidnaping of Miss Raynor.”

“What for?” I asked, blankly.

“Revenge, probably, but there may be other villainies afoot. Am I right, Mr. Wise?”

“Yes, and mighty quick-witted. Then the next step is to go to the ‘mother’s’ house.”

“Yes, if we can trace it. It may be a call within a call; I mean, the number Mr. Brice got may be merely a go-between – a link – ”

“Try it, anyway,” implored Zizi; “every minute is precious. I’m so afraid for Miss Olive. You know, she’s spunky, – she won’t submit easily to restraint, and you don’t know what they may do to her!”

“Get Information first,” directed Wise, as I started for the telephone. “Find the address of the number you called. You remember it?”

“Yes; of course.” And in a few moments I learned that the house was down in Washington Square.

“Get a taxi,” said Zizi, already putting on her long black cape, which swirled round the slender figure as she flung one end over her shoulder.

She flew to a mirror, and was dabbing her straight little nose with a powder-puff as she talked.

“We’ll all go down there, and I don’t think we’ll have to look any further. Miss Olive is there, – I’m dead sure! Held by the enemy! But she’s game, and I don’t believe we’ll be too late, if we hustle like a house afire!”

And so, with the greatest speed consistent with safety, we taxied down to the house in Washington Square.

The Kent apartment was on the third floor, and as Zizi dashed up the stairs, not waiting for the elevator, we three men followed her.

Zizi’s ring at the bell brought a middle-aged woman to the door, who looked at us rather blankly.

I was about to speak, when Zizi, insinuating her small self through the partly opened door, said softly:

“We’ve a message from ‘The Link.’”

It acted like magic, and the woman’s face changed to an expression of welcome and serious anxiety, as we all went in.

It was rather a pretentious apartment, with fine furnishings in ornate taste. We saw no one save the woman who admitted us, and heard no sound from other rooms.

“You expected it?” and Zizi’s air of secret understanding was perfect.

“Expected what?” said Mrs. Kent, sharply, for she was apparently on her guard.

“Sadie’s arrest,” and Zizi’s black eyes narrowed as she looked keenly at the other.

But the woman was not to be trapped. She glanced at us each in turn, and seemed to conclude we were not friendly visitors for all Zizi’s pretense.

“I know nothing of any arrest,” she said, evenly; “I think you have mistaken the house.”

“I think not,” and Penny Wise looked at her sternly. “Your bluff won’t go, madam, – Sadie, ‘The Link,’ is arrested, and the game is up. Will you answer questions or will you wait until you, too, are arrested?”

“I have nothing to say,” she mumbled, but her voice trembled, and her nerve was deserting her. Inadvertently she glanced toward the closed door of the next room, and Zizi’s quick eyes followed the glance.

“Is Miss Raynor in there?” she flung out so quickly that Mrs. Kent gasped. But she recovered her poise at once and said, “I don’t know what you mean, – I don’t know any Miss Raynor.”

“Oh, tut, tut!” and Zizi grinned at her; “don’t tell naughty stories! Why, I hear Miss Raynor’s voice!”

She didn’t at all, but as she listened, with her head cocked on one side, like a saucy bird, Mrs. Kent’s face showed fear, and she listened also.

A muffled scream was heard, – not loud, but clearly a cry for help.

Without further parley, Rivers made a dash for the door and though it was locked, he smashed into the rather flimsy panel and the old hinges gave way.

There, in the adjoining room was Olive Raynor, a handkerchief tied across her mouth and her angry eyes flashing with rage.

Holding her arm was George Rodman, who was evidently trying to intimidate her, but without complete success.

Zizi flew to Olive’s side, and snatched off the handkerchief.

Rodman was perfectly cool. “Let that lady alone,” he said; “she is my affianced wife.”

“Affianced grandmother!” retorted Zizi. “You can’t put that over, Mr. Rodman!”

“Save me!” Olive said, looking from me to Penny Wise and back again. Her glance fell on Rivers, but returned to me, as her face assumed a look of agony.

I couldn’t quite understand, as she must know that with us all there her danger was past.

“Are you his betrothed?” Case Rivers said, bluntly.

“No!” Olive replied, in an indignant tone; “never!”

“Then – ” and Rivers seemed about to remove Rodman’s hand from Olive’s arm by force, but Rodman himself spoke up:

“One moment, please,” he said, quietly, and bending over, he whispered in Olive’s ear.