“Here’s a case for you, officer!” exclaimed Mr. Randall, for the old gentleman had said that was his name.  
“What sort of a case?” asked the policeman, continuing to munch some peanuts, the shells of which were scattered about him.
 
“A most extraordinary case!”
 
“All cases are alike to me,” returned the blue coat calmly. “What is it?”
 
“This boy is a burglar I just captured, only he isn’t a burglar at all, but he’s kidnapped and I saved him!”
 
“What?” almost shouted the officer. “Are you crazy or am I?”
 
“I guess you and all the policemen in New York must be, to have such goings-on,” said Mr. Randall. “This boy is kidnapped, I tell you.”
 
“Kidnapped, is it?” murmured the officer; “wait a minute, I have some sort of a report about a kidnapped lad.”
 
From his helmet the policeman drew out a paper. He began reading over a description of166 a number of missing persons whom the police had been asked, by their relatives, to help locate. Larry’s case having been reported by Mr. Newton, had, in the course of the routine, been related to every officer in the city, from their different station houses.
 
“Here we are,” the policeman exclaimed. “Fox terrier, answers to the name—no, that’s about a lost dog. Oh, this is it—Larry Dexter, fifteen years old, rather tall, blue eyes, brown hair, etc.”
 
“That’s me!” cried Larry. “How can I get home quickest?”
 
“Come with me,” the officer said.
 
He led the way through a number of streets, until they came to a lonely trolley car that had reached the end of its route. Into this the officer, Larry, and the old gentleman got, and soon they were under full speed.
 
“I’ll take you to the station house, so I can make a report of you having been found,” said the officer, “and then you can go home. Well, this is a good piece of work.”
 
“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 had167 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 unnecessary168 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.
 
“I think it would ............