"This is the worst go I've struck yet," said Bob to himself, as he meditated over his situation. "Jest as I thought everything was all fixed, this blamed old lock knocks me out. Well, I've pulled through pretty good so far, and I won't give it up yet. I may strike an idea,"

he continued, undismayed, and then commenced prowling stealthily about the room, in search of something--anything that would serve his purpose.

He thought if he could find the key to the hall door he would try to make his escape from the building; and, once out, he could get matches, and whatever else he needed to aid him in carrying out his scheme to a grand success. But he was no more fortunate in this effort than he had been in hunting for the key to the trap door.

He searched, too, every nook and corner for a match, but failed utterly to find one, or anything to keep his courage good. The situation began to look alarming to him. He was now as much a prisoner as Herbert Randolph.

"I wonder what Tom Flannery would do if he was in my place?" mused the young detective, as he sat upon the floor, somewhat depressed in spirits. "I think he'd just lay down and bawl and throw up the whole game, that's what Tom Flannery would do. But I ain't goin' to throw up no game till it's lost, not ef Bob Hunter knows himself. There ain't but one thing to do now, and that's to go into old Gunwagner's bedroom, and take them keys outer his pocket, that's what I think. Ef he was to wake up, tho', and catch me at it--well, I guess I wouldn't be in the detective business no more. But--what's that noise?" said he to himself, suddenly becoming aware of a strange sound.

Our young detective felt a cold chill creep over him. His first thought was that the old fence was coming into his presence, and would of course capture him and punish him most inhumanly. But as the slight noise continued, and Gunwagner did not appear, Bob took courage, and listened keenly for developments. Presently the sound came nearer, and now a gleam of light shone up through a crack in the floor.

"Can it be Vermont?" said Bob to himself, hardly believing his own eyes.

Still nearer came the light.

"He is climbing the stairs, as sure's I'm alive," said Bob, almost overcome with joy.

In the trap door was a small knot hole, about an inch and a half in diameter. Through this opening the light now shone distinctly, and it was most welcome to the eyes of our young detective. A pressure was now brought to bear upon the door from the under side, but it only yielded so far as the fastening would allow.

"Is that you, Vermont?" whispered Bob through the knot hole.

No answer was given.

Herbert Randolph had never considered himself in any degree superst.i.tious. But what could this be but Bob Hunter's spirit?

"Don't be afraid," said the young detective, who imagined Herbert would find it difficult to realize that he was there. "It's Bob Hunter. I ain't got no card with me, or I'd send it down to you."

This remark sounded so much like Bob that young Randolph no longer doubted his own senses.

"Bob Hunter!" exclaimed he. "How in the world came you here, and what are you doing?"

"Yes, it's me, Vermont. But don't stop to ask no questions now. I'm here to help you get out, but this blamed old door is locked, and I hain't got no key, nor no light, nor nothin'."

After exchanging a few words, Herbert took from his pocket a piece of paper. This he made into a taper, which he lighted and pa.s.sed up through the knot hole to Bob. With this the latter lighted the gas; and now he felt that he was in a position to be of some service to his friend.

A careful search failed to reveal any keys. Then the two boys discussed the situation, and presently Herbert pa.s.sed a bent nail to the young detective, and instructed him how to operate on the lock, which speedily yielded to the boy's efforts. In another instant the trap door was thrown up, and, by a most unfortunate blunder, it fell back with a tremendous crash.

Herbert, however, emerged quickly from his cold, damp prison, with a look of consternation pictured upon his face. Both he and Bob knew that old Gunwagner would be upon them in less than a minute, and they hastily prepared to defend themselves.

CHAPTER XVI.

THE OLD FENCE IN A TRAP.

"What shall we do?" said Bob, with no little alarm, as Herbert Randolph climbed up through the old trap door.

"We must defend ourselves," replied the young Vermonter, with characteristic firmness.

"There ain't no way to escape, is there?"

"No, I suppose not, if the hall door is locked."

"It is, and I can't find no key."

"Have you looked since the gas was lighted?"

"Yes, and 'tain't there nowhere."

"Where do you imagine it is?"

"I guess the old duffer has it in his pocket, the same as he has the key to the trap door."

"Well, there is no time to lose. Old Gunwagner will be down upon us in an instant."

"Do you think he will bring a revolver with him?" asked Bob, somewhat nervously.

"Very likely he will."

"I guess we'd better climb down cellar, then, and pretty lively, too."

"No, we won't," replied Herbert, decidedly. "I have had all of that prison I want. We will fight it out here."

"All right, then, I'll shut this door down, or we might get thrown down cellar in the fight."

"So we might, and---- Ah, here he comes!" said young Randolph, detecting the sound of footsteps, as old Gunwagner approached.

[Ill.u.s.tration: GUNWAGNER BURSTS INTO THE ROOM IN A FURIOUS MOOD.]

"Stand in front of the counter, so that he will see you when he opens the door, and----"

"But the revolver!" interrupted Bob.

He had now entirely relinquished the leadership, for in Herbert Randolph he recognized his superior.

"I was going to tell you about that," replied our hero. "If you see a revolver in his hand, you must drop behind the counter as quickly as possible."

"Yes, and I won't waste no time about it, either."

"No, you'd better not," said the young Vermonter; and he had barely time to dart behind the door, when old Gunwagner placed his hand upon the latch, and burst into the room. His eye fell upon Bob Hunter, who stood directly in front of him, but about two thirds of the way across the room.

The old fence recognized him instantly, and with a fiendish shout made for the lad, as if he meant annihilation. He had not proceeded far, however, when young Randolph bounded from behind the door, and fell upon his shoulders, bearing him to the floor.

A yell of terror escaped from the old villain, that told clearly of his alarm. He had not thought of Herbert until now. He was at a loss to know what caused the noise, when the trap door slipped back with such a resounding crash.

But when his eyes fell upon Bob Hunter, he readily jumped at the conclusion that he alone had caused the rumpus. Now, however, he was stunned at this unexpected a.s.sault from the rear. When Herbert and the old man fell to the floor, Bob Hunter was quickly at his friend's side, ready to take a hand in the struggle, if needed.