Larry Dexter, Reporter/Chapter 12

Larry was walking along a street that led to the thoroughfare on which he lived, he was suddenly brought to a halt in front of a brilliantly-lighted cigar store, by hearing someone exclaim:

“Well, if there isn't my old friend, Larry Dexter! How are you, Larry? Still on the Leader?”

Larry turned, to behold Peter Manton, a former copy boy on the newspaper, a lad with whom Larry had had numerous fallings out, and once quite a fight. He had not seen Peter often since the memorable race to get first to the telegraph office with news of the big flood.

“How do you do?” asked Larry, not very cordially, for he felt that Peter was an enemy.

“I'm fine,” replied Peter. “What's your hurry? Wait, and I'll buy you a cigarette.”

“I don't smoke cigarettes,” rejoined Larry, not caring to announce that, as yet, he did not smoke at all.

“Well, don't get mad,” said Peter, good-naturedly. “I suppose you have a grudge against me?”

“Well,” replied Larry, frankly, “I think you acted pretty mean when you smashed my boat.”

“I guess I did,” admitted Peter. “But you must remember I was very anxious to get my copy on the wire first.”

“So was I,” added Larry, “and I beat you,” and he could not help smiling at the recollection.

“And you got me fired by it,” spoke Peter, with an injured air.

“How was that?” asked Larry, for though he had seen Peter since the episode, he had not had a chance to talk to him.

“When the people on the Scorcher found out I was responsible for your paper beating them they told me to look for another position. I didn't have much trouble finding one, though.”

“Where are you now?” asked Larry, thinking it would be no more than common politeness to ask. He was anxious to get home, however, and not very much interested in Peter or his projects.

“Oh, I'm with the Universal Real Estate Company,” said Peter. “I have a swell job. Mr. Perkins is a great friend of mine.”

Larry started. He recollected that it was the same company and the same man who had approached him, and who had seemed so anxious about the deed to the Bronx property. He decided he would not be in such a hurry to go home, but would make further inquiries from Peter. It might lead to something, he thought.

“I wonder you don't give up the newspaper business,” went on Peter. “It's hard work and poor pay. Maybe I could get you into our firm,” and he spoke as though he was the senior partner.

“Oh, I don't know,” replied Larry, as if he was thinking of the matter. “I have very little knowledge of real estate.”

“You don't have to have,” spoke Peter. “You could get along all right. All you have to do is to go around and see people, get descriptions of property, and keep a few books. It's heaps easier than chasing copy.”

“I'm not chasing copy any more,” replied Larry. “I'm a regular reporter.”

“That's worse,” went on Peter. “You never know when you're through working. Now I finish by three o'clock every day, and have the rest of the time to myself.”

“Does your firm do much business?” asked Larry.

“You bet. And say, it's going to do more. If you came in with us now I could put you on to a good thing. There's going to be a big raise in land values in a certain locality in a little while, and our firm's going to make a lot of money.”

“Where is the land?” asked Larry, carelessly.

“Don't you wish you knew?” sneered Peter. “I'm not telling everyone. But, if you like, I'll speak to Mr. Perkins for you.”

“You might,” said Larry, thinking it would be no harm to get as much information as possible. “I'd like to make some money.”

During this time the two youths had been standing in front of the cigar store. Larry was thinking it was about time for him to move on, as he did not want to arouse Peter's suspicions by too many questions, when a short, stout, and dark-complexioned man came hurrying around the corner.

“I was afraid you'd gone,” the man said to Peter.

“No, I was talking with a friend of mine,” replied the former copy boy on the Leader. “Are you through?”

“Yes,” replied the man. “But I had no success.”

Larry looked idly at the stranger. He noticed he wore gloves, and this, at first glance, struck him as peculiar, for the night was warm. Still this fact was not so surprising, and Larry's mind was about to pass over the incident when his eye happened to catch a glimpse of something blue about the man's hand.

At first he thought it was the edge of a blue cuff. He looked again, more closely, and was startled to see that part of the glove was turned back at the wrist, and that the flesh which showed was deep blue in color.

Larry was so startled by the sight, so alarmed at the unexpected appearance of the blue mark, bringing as it did to his mind a recollection of the safe robbery, that he was afraid the man might notice his surprise. But Peter's acquaintance did not pay any attention to Larry. He seemed in a hurry, and anxious to be moving on.

Larry began to wish that there might be some excuse for remaining longer in the company of Peter and the man. Yet he was afraid that if he did so, the stranger might suspect something, and hurry away before Larry had a chance to communicate with Mr. Newton.

In order to be sure of the person when he saw him again Larry looked closely at him. He saw that he had piercing black eyes, a nervous manner, a small, black mustache which he pulled at from time to time, and there was a small scar under his left eye.

“I'll know him if I ever see him again,” thought Larry.

The man seemed ill at ease. Suddenly he discovered that the edge of his glove was turned back. With a quick motion he buttoned the article up.

As he did so he glanced sharply at Larry, as if anxious to know whether the lad had noticed anything. Larry pretended that his shoelace needed tying, and stooped over to avoid meeting the fellow's look. As Larry straightened up he heard the stranger call out:

“Come on, Peter. There's our car,” and, before Larry could have stopped them, had he desired to, or thought it wise, they were running after it.

“Well, that's finding a man and losing him in a hurry,” thought Larry. “I wonder what I'd better do?”

At first he thought of calling on Mr. Newton. But as the reporter lived quite a distance away Larry decided this would not be wise. Then he thought he would call his friend up on the telephone. But the idea of talking about the blue-handed man over the wire, where anyone might hear it, did not seem to be exactly right.

“I'll wait until morning,” thought Larry. “We can't do anything now. Besides we're on the right trail. I know where to find Peter, and maybe I can get some information out of him.”

With this end in view Larry proceeded on his way home. It was getting close to midnight, and he was a little worried lest his mother be alarmed over his long absence. He found her waiting for him.

“Oh, Larry!” she exclaimed. “You have given me such a fright!”

“Why, mother, what's the matter?”

“Oh, I thought perhaps those men had done you some harm.”

“What men?”

“Why, the ones who are trying to get the deed away from us.”

“Have they been bothering you again?”

“Yes. One was here a while ago.”

“Was it anyone that had been here before?” he asked.

“No, this was a different one. He came in about nine o'clock when the children were in bed, and Lucy and I sitting here. He seemed nice at first, and then he began to ask me about the deed. He said you had sent him.”

“Me, mother? I never sent anyone.”

“Well, that's what he said. He wanted me to sign an agreement to sell the property.”

“I hope you didn't sign, mother.”

“No, I didn't, Larry, and when I refused the man was very angry. He tried to hide his feelings, but I could see he was mad. Then he wanted to look at the deed, but I remembered what you had said, and I would not show it to him. Pretty soon he went away, but I was very much frightened.”

“What sort of a looking man was he?”

“Rather short, and dark-complexioned. He had a little black mustache which he kept pulling at all the time, and there was a scar under his left eye.”

Larry started as he heard these details. He began to see who the man was.

“Did you notice anything else about him, mother?”

“Nothing special, except that he kept his gloves on all the while he was here.”

“Are you sure of that, mother?”

“Of course, Larry. I spoke of it to Lucy afterward. I even asked him to take them off, as it was rather warm.”

“What did he say?”

“He seemed quite excited, and buttoned up one that had come open.”

“Did you notice anything else?”

“No, I didn't, but Lucy did. She spoke to me about it afterward. She said she caught a glimpse of the man's wrist where the glove was turned back, and it seemed to be of a red color.”

“A red color!” exclaimed Larry.

“I mean blue,” went on Mrs. Dexter. “She said it looked as if the man worked in a bluing factory. Perhaps that is why he kept his gloves on. He did not want people to see his blue hands.”

“I guess that's the reason,” said Larry, trying to speak calmly. But he was greatly excited. The plot, which seemed to involve him and his folks in the safe-robbing, seemed to be growing more tangled.