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 assault 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.While old Gunwagner was a cruel, heartless man, he nevertheless lacked genuine courage. Like the majority of men of his class, he was a coward at heart. He therefore readily gave up the struggle, when surprised by Herbert Randolph.“It’s your turn now, old man,” said our young hero, triumphantly. “Last night you pounced upon me, and seemed to like it. Now perhaps you will enjoy this!”A coarse oath, characteristic of the old villain, was the reply.“You may as well submit decently. You are in our power now, and if you behave yourself, you will save us the necessity of compelling you to obey.”The old fence grated his teeth, and looked the very incarnation of all that was evil. The wicked spirit that shone in his face would have afforded a rare study for a painter. He made a movement of his right hand, as if to reach back to his hip pocket. A movement of this sort, under such circumstances, is considered suggestive of firearms.Bob did not wait to see whether he was reaching for a revolver or some other ugly weapon, but instantly fell upon this hand, and secured it. The other hand was in Herbert’s firm grasp, so it was useless for the old fence to struggle further.“My turn has come now to get square with you, you cruel old sinner,” said Herbert. “I begged of you to take me out of that foul cellar and away from those dreadful rats, but you showed no mercy.”Gunwagner made no reply.“Yes, and he was goin’ to send you off on some kind of a ship tomorrow, so you would never get back to New York no more,” said Bob.“Send me off on a ship!” exclaimed our hero, with a shudder. He had not until now even imagined the full purpose of his enemies.“Yes, that’s what they said tonight, him and that Mortimer feller.”“And you heard this?”“Yes, when I was in that box under the counter there,” replied Bob, with enthusiasm; “and they talked about bank robbin’, too.”At this revelation old Gunwagner seemed to give up allhope. The hardness of his face melted into an expression of pain, and he trembled with fear, like the frightened thing that he was. He had been outwitted by the young detective.“Richard Goldwin’s bank, I suppose,” replied young Randolph, almost dazed at the audacity of the villains.“Yes, that was their game in getting you out of the way.”“I didn’t think of that before.”“Well, you hain’t been in New York very long, and so you don’t know the way they do things here—them that is bad, like this gang.”“How did you find out where I was, and how in the world did you manage to get in here without being seen?”“Well, you see, I was a detective,” said Bob, with a show of pride.“A detective!” exclaimed the young Vermonter, looking at his friend with the innocent wonder of a country boy.“Yes, but I hain’t got no time to tell you about it now. We must be movin’, you see.”“So we must,” replied Herbert.Doubtless old Gunwagner, too, would have liked much to hear Bob relate how he discovered his friend’s prison. But even this small satisfaction was denied him.“What’s the first move?” said Bob.“I have been thinking about that,” replied our hero.“Of course, we must have him arrested.”“Certainly we must.”“Oh, no, don’t, don’t!” pleaded the old man, speaking for the first time.“It is too late to plead now,” said young Randolph. “You should have thought of this before committing the evil that you have done.”“But I am an old man, and he led me into it.”“Who?”“Mortimer, Felix Mortimer. If it hadn’t been for him, I wouldn’t er done it.”“Oh, that don’t go with us,” said Bob. “I heard the whole story tonight. You was into the game with him, and now you’re trapped you wanter squeal, that’s what you do. But it won’t do you no good. You are a bad lot from way back—gettin’ boys to steal things for you!”This was a revelation to young Randolph, as he did not know until now that old Gunwagner kept a fence.“Don’t have me arrested, boys,” whined the old villain, now trying to work on their sympathy. “It would kill me. I am so old.”“Do you expect sympathy from me, after your heartless treatment?” said Herbert.“He made me do it,” was the reply, referring to Mortimer.“Nonsense, you could have taken me out of that old cellar if you had wanted to do so.”“Yes, and do you think you would er showed me any sympathy, if you’d got me into your clutches alone?” put in Bob.“I wouldn’t have been hard on you.”“No, you wouldn’t,” said the young detective, sarcastically. “Your talk tonight, when I was hid away, sounded as if you wouldn’t er been hard on me—oh, no, you wouldn’t. I could tell that from the way you plunged at me just now, when you came through that door with your war paint on.”CHAPTER XVII.BOB GOES FOR AN OFFICER.Old Gunwagner saw quite clearly that any further effort to play upon the boys’ sympathy was useless.The first shock of his surprise was over, and now the subtle cunning of his nature began to reassert itself.“Boys, you have the advantage of me at present,” said he, softly. “But I can’t see how it will pay you to act foolish.”“What do you mean?” asked Herbert.“I mean that it will pay you a good deal better to make terms with me.”“How so?”“Would you like to be rich?” was the reply.“I suppose every American wants to be rich, and I guess we are no exception, are we, Bob?”“I should think we ain’t,” replied the latter.“So I thought,” said the old fence, “and it’s in my power to make you rich.”The boys were listening to subtle, dangerous words.“How can you do that?” said Bob, growing interested.“There are a number of ways that I might do it. In the first place, I could give both of you all the money you will ever need, and still be rich myself.”“But a man isn’t likely to give away so much,” said Herbert.“You must have a payin’ business,” observed the young detective.“Of course I must, and that is the point I am coming at. You boys have shown yourselves keen lads, and I always like to help such boys along, for I was poor once myself. Now my proposition is this: I’ll give you both a show in the business here with me.”“No, sir, thank you, we do not care to go into a dishonest business like this,” said Herbert, emphatically, speaking for both Bob and himself.“Not if you could each make ten thousand a year, clean money?”“No; not if we could make ten times that,” replied our hero.“You could have a good time on ten thousand a year—boys of your age.”“Not on stolen money.”“It wouldn’t be on stolen money.”“It looks very much like it, when you buy stolen goods.”“Yes, and fix up a job for bank robbin’,” added Bob.“Well, suppose it does look so, why couldn’t you enjoy the money just as much?”“Because it wouldn’t be right for us to have it,” returned our hero.“Boys, you are not so old as I am. I’ve seen a good deal of life. Money is money, and it don’t matter where it comes from, it will buy just as much.”“It will not always buy one his liberty,” replied young Randolph, coolly.This remark came close home to the old fence, and disconcerted him for a minute. Presently, however, he rallied, and said:“Do you think one has his liberty, as you call it, when he is poor—so poor that he can have no luxuries?”“To be sure he does. Why not?”“You will change your mind some day, and perhaps it will be too late.”“I hope I shall never change my mind in favor of dishonesty and crime.”“Do you know that a boy’s chance to get rich hardly ever comes to him but once in his life?” continued old Gunwagner, undaunted.“No, and I don’t believe it is so, either.”“Another evidence of your inexperience. When you get older, you will look back and see what I tell you is true; and if you miss this chance you will never get another one like it.”“We don’t want another one like it, so it’s no use to talk about it any more.”“That’s so,” said Bob; “he hain’t got no interest in us; I can see through his trick.”“You are mistaken, young man. If you don’t want to go into the business here yourselves, I’ll give you an interest in it, if you will do nothing to injure it. You see, you know about the business here now, and if you should give it away to the police, why it would hurt it, don’t you understand?”“Yes, we understand it too well, but do not want an interest in it,” said Herbert.“It would pay you well,” persisted the old fence; “say about seven to ten thousand dollars each every year, and you needn’t come anear it—just take your dividends every week, and that’s all.”“Well, we don’t want no such dividends,” said Bob; “nor we couldn’t get ’em if we did want ’em, that’s all.”“You are mistaken again, for if you think the business don’t pay as well as I say, why I can show you the money.”“Got it with you?” said Bob.This question pleased the old fence, and gave him renewed courage. He thought now that perhaps there was yet hope for him.“I have it in the house,” said he.“In cash?”“Yes, and I can get it if you want to see it.”“Don’t see how you’re goin’ to get it, the way you are fixed now,” continued Bob.“Well, if you will not let me go for it, I can tell you where to find it.”“Can you? Well, where is it?”“It is in my bedroom, in the further end of the house. You will find it in the thick wallet, under my pillow.”“Well, we will take your word for it, seein’ we don’t need the money for anything, and wouldn’t take it nohow,” said the young detective, who divined the purpose of the old fence.“But if you don’t get it, how can I make you boys a present? You will not allow me to go for it,” said the fence, fearing his scheme had failed him.“We don’t want no present, so don’t worry yourself about that.”“We prefer taking you with us, rather than the present,” said Herbert.“Old man,” continued Bob, “your game didn’t work. All you wanted was to get me out of the way so you could er layed Vermont out. But it warn’t no go. You was too anxious to give away money. I could see all the time what you was aimin’ at.”The old fence protested against this interpretation of his motives, but the boys were too keen for him. Young Bob Hunter had been knocking about the streets of New York too long to be very easily taken in by this old Gunwagner. His wits had been sharpened to a high degree in his long struggle for bread, and his knowledge of human nature was as superior to that of Herbert Randolph as the latter’s general education was superior to Bob’s.gunwagner in the handsof the police.Finding it impossible to work upon the sympathy of the boys, that buying them off was out of the question, and that the scheme to outwit them had proved a flat failure, Gunwagner nowturned to the last weapon which he could hope to use with any possible effect.“So you have made up your mind to take me with you?” said he, looking hard at Herbert.“Yes,” replied the latter, firmly.“You will make the biggest mistake of your life, if you attempt such an outrage.”“An outrage! Is that what you call it, when a detective takes a bird like you in?” said Bob Hunter, in his characteristic manner.The old fence looked fiercely at him.“My friends are all around here, and I can raise a dozen of them before you could get me half a block away.”“We do not feel uneasy about your so called friends,” said young Randolph. “But if you prefer it, we will send for an officer, and let him take you.”“If your friends go back on you the way Mortimer done tonight, when he told you he would look out for himself, and let you fight it out alone, why, then I guess me and Vermont needn’t bother much about your gang.”Further intimidation was tried by Gunwagner, but all to no purpose, for now the boys were in the act of fastening together the wrists of the old fence, and binding them securely to a chair. When this had been done, so that they no longer felt any insecurity, they took from his pocket the keys to both doors leading to the street, and Bob Hunter started for an officer. Young Randolph remained with the prisoner, because he was stronger than Bob, and therefore would be the better able to handle him, should he by any means get his hands loose.Now every hope had failed the old man. He saw nothingbut Sing Sing before him. His evil purpose had at last recoiled upon him, and he was a prisoner in the hands of one who but a few hours before had begged of him for mercy.While waiting for the return of Bob with the officer, Herbert asked Gunwagner if the money he had made in crooked and unlawful ways had brought him happiness. He made no audible reply, but sat with his head bent low. An answer, however, was conveyed to our young hero by a silent tear that made its way slowly down the wrinkled and aged face of the old man, whose life had been worse than wasted, for it had been an evil one.CHAPTER XVIII.TOM FLANNERY IS HUNGRY.It was past midnight when Herbert Randolph and Bob Hunter reached their room. The old fence had meanwhile been taken to the station house by an officer. Both boys were sleepy and well nigh exhausted, so they immediately sought rest.Bob, however, was up at his usual hour in the morning, and off to look after his paper trade. Business proved good with him on this occasion—unusually good—so that his profits amounted to quite a nice little sum. He therefore planned to give Herbert a good warm breakfast, something better than it had been their custom to eat.Presently Tom Flannery appeared.“You here, Bob?” said the latter, with surprise. “I thought you was done for, sure.”“What made you think that, Tom?”“Why, because you didn’t show up.”“You didn’t wait for me, did you?”“Didn’t I? Well, I should think I did, till near twelve o’clock, too, when I was so near froze I couldn’t stay no longer; and Bob, I thought it was all up with you.”“Why, Tom, you hadn’t oughter staid. I told you to go home after you lit the fire.”“I know you did, Bob, but I didn’t feel like goin’ home and leavin’ you alone in that den. You see I thought you might need me.”“Tom, you’ve got more sand than I thought you had. I wish I coulder fixed it so you coulder been on the inside too.”“I wish you could, Bob. Was it excitin’?”“Excitin’! Well, wasn’t it, though! I never saw anything like it. But I say, Tom, that was a great go. You done it splendid.”“What’s that, Bob?”“Why, the fire act. I don’t believe nobody could beat that.”Tom enjoyed this praise hugely.“I wouldn’t like to a’ been in your place, Bob,” said he, “when you was in that dark room, nor when old Gunwagner and that other feller was huntin’ for you.”“No, I thought you wouldn’t, Tom, and I didn’t want to be there neither.”“’Twas a big detective job, wasn’t it, Bob?”“Well, ’twas a pretty fair one, I guess.”“And you got it all up yourself,” continued Tom, admiringly. “I wish I could do things the way you do, Bob.”“Well, you see, Tom, you hain’t had so much experience as what I have, but you’ll come out all right, and make a big detective, I know you will.”Bob stopped talking to sell a paper, and after making change and pocketing his profit, he continued:“Now, Tom, I tell you what ’tis: you and me and Herbert will eat breakfast together, when he comes down.”“When will he be down?” asked Tom, his hand dropping instinctively upon his empty stomach.Tom Flannery was known among his crowd of street lads as the hungry boy. He was always ready to eat, and never seemed to get enough food to satisfy the cravings of his appetite. This invitation, therefore, was very welcome to him.“It’s ’bout time for him now,” replied Bob, in answer to Tom’s question.“I wish he would come,” said Tom, looking hungrier than usual.“He is probably making up sleep,” said the young detective.“How much sleep has he got to make up, Bob?” asked Tom, seriously.“I don’t know exactly, but I guess pretty near a whole night.”“A whole night!” exclaimed Tom, dubiously. “He ain’t goin’ to make it all up this morning, is he, Bob?”Tom’s hand rested suggestively upon his stomach again.“Shucks! Tom Flannery, if you ain’t a idiot, I never saw one! To think Herbert Randolph would sleep all day! Didn’t I tell you he would be right down?”“So you did, Bob. I forgot that; but you see I wanted to be sure, cause I haven’t had nothin’ to eat yet today.”Bob looked at his companion with an air of disdain, and made no reply.Tom, however, was not over sensitive, so he kept on talking about Bob’s adventure at the fence. In the course of half an hour he got the whole story from the young detective. Bob not only told him his own adventures, but gave him all of Herbert’s experience, which he had himself learned from our hero.It was now about a quarter to nine. Tom looked suggestively at the big hands on the City Hall clock, but said nothing about young Randolph’s non-appearance.“I don’t see what keeps him,” said Bob, knowing full well what Tom was thinking about.“Nor I don’t either, Bob. I guess he won’t be down very early.”“Well, there wasn’t nothin’ to bring him down early.”“But you expected him, didn’t you, Bob?”“Of course I did, Tom Flannery. Didn’t I ask you to eat breakfast with me and him?”“Yes, you did, Bob, and that was what I was thinking about.”“Well, what did you think about it?”“I was wonderin’ if you meant this mornin’, or some other mornin’.”Tom had hardly finished this remark, when Herbert Randolph approached from the Broadway entrance and spoke to Bob.“This is Tom Flannery, what helped me do the detective act,” said the latter, by way of introduction. “You know I told you about him.”“Oh, yes, I remember, and I am glad to meet you, Tom Flannery,” replied young Randolph, extending his hand to Tom.“So am I glad to see you,” said young Flannery; “me and Bob here have been waitin’ for you more’n two hours.”“Oh, Tom Flannery!” exclaimed Bob. “What are you talkin’ that way for? ’Tain’t a quarter so much that we’ve been waitin’, and you know it.”“Seems like ’twas a half a day to me, any way,” protested Tom, with his hand again moving towards the seat of his digestion.“The trouble is with Tom Flannery that he is alwaysstarvin’. I never see such a hungry boy,” explained the young detective.“I can’t help it,” answered Tom; “I like to eat.”Bob explained to Herbert that they had been waiting for him to join them for breakfast.“I am sorry,” said young Randolph, “but I ate my breakfast on the way down.”Tom Flannery was disheartened.“Never mind, Tom,” said Bob; “we will have the breakfast some other mornin’—you and me and Vermont.”When it was time for Mr. Goldwin to get down to business, our hero and the young detective started for the banking house.A surprise awaited Felix Mortimer.CHAPTER XIX.THE RIVALS AT THE BANK.“Do you s’pose we will find that Mortimer feller at the bank?” asked Bob, as he and young Randolph passed down Broadway towards Wall Street.“Very likely we shall,” responded our hero, absentmindedly.“If he has heard of old Gunwagner’s arrest, you bet he won’t be there.”“The papers contained nothing about the arrest, did they?”“No, not as I seen.”“Then the chances are that he is there.”“So I think. But what will you do, Vermont, if he is?”“I don’t know yet.”“You won’t lick him, will you?”“Oh, no, that wouldn’t be a wise policy to pursue.”“But he deserves it.”“So he does, but I can’t afford to lower myself by fighting.”“That’s so, Vermont; but, all the same, I’d like to see you lay him out once—the way you did at Gunwagner’s—he deserves it.”“He deserves to be punished, but I think the law will do that.”“’Tain’t quick enough,” said Bob, petulantly. “A fellergets all over his mad before he gets any satisfaction out of law.”“You are a comical chap, Bob,” said Herbert; “but you have been one of the best friends I ever knew. If you had not come to my rescue, I should probably never have walked down this street again.”“Oh, that’s all right,” replied the young detective. “Don’t say nothing about it.”The two boys had now reached the banking house of Richard Goldwin. Their conversation, therefore, terminated as they entered the bank.Just as the door was opened to them, Mr. Goldwin came out of his private office, and his eyes fell upon Herbert and Bob.“What do you mean, sir, by appearing in this bank again?” he asked, with a stern glance at young Randolph.It must be remembered that he believed the story told to him by Felix Mortimer, and therefore looked upon Herbert with grave suspicions, or even contempt.The banker’s manner and implied insinuation wounded young Randolph’s pride, and his cheeks became crimson.“If you are not already prejudiced, I think, sir, I can explain to your entire satisfaction,” said our young hero, with a native dignity well becoming his manliness.“It’s jest what I told you yesterday mornin’,” put in Bob. “Foul play—that’s what it was.”“I think I am not prejudiced to such an extent that I am incapable of dealing justly with you,” replied Mr. Goldwin, giving no heed to Bob’s remark.“Thank you,” said Herbert. “I am sure you are not, and if you will listen to me, I will explain everything.”“A mere explanation from you, however, will not convince me.”“It should do so,” replied Herbert, still further wounded by this cold remark.“Not at all, since you have deceived me once.”“I have never deceived you, sir,” answered young Randolph, with spirit.“Of course you would say so,” returned the banker, coolly.“Most certainly I would, sir, when I am telling you the truth.”“Have you any evidence to sustain your position?” asked Mr. Goldwin.“Yes, sir,” replied Herbert; “my friend here can testify that I have not deceived you. He knows the whole story—the plot from first to last.”Herbert Randolph’s bold, straightforward manner impressed the banker favorably, and he now became less frigid towards him.“There has evidently been deception somewhere,” said Mr. Goldwin. “Why any one should plot against you, with a view to getting you out of this bank, I cannot understand.”“I think Bob Hunter here can make it plain to you. He knows the whole scheme.”“And it warn’t no small scheme, neither,” responded Bob. “It’s lucky for you that we got on to it before it was too late.”“What do you mean by this insinuation, young man?”“Well, if you want to know, I’ll tell you. Perhaps you remember I was down here yesterday to see you, and I told you somethin’ was wrong then—didn’t I?”“Yes.”“And you didn’t believe it, but just talked against Herbert Randolph here.”“But I had good cause for doing so.”“Yes, if you think that stuff that Felix Mortimer give you was any cause, then you did have some; but he was jest lyin’ to you, that’s what he was doin’, and I know it; and what’s more, I can prove it,” said Bob, boldly and bluntly.“You are making a strong statement,” replied the banker, somewhat bewildered.“I know I am, but I couldn’t say nothin’ too strong about that Mortimer feller.”“Felix Mortimer is in my private office. Dare you come in and face him with these remarks?”“You bet I dare—that’s jest what I want to do.”“You shall do so, then,” said the banker.Herbert Randolph and Bob Hunter followed him, at his invitation, into his private room.CHAPTER XX.FELIX MORTIMER DISCOMFITED.Felix Mortimer sat at a desk facing the door, and was writing when the banker and the two boys entered the room. He did not look up till Herbert and Bob had advanced several steps toward him, and stopped. But his eyes now met theirs, and he sprang to his feet like one suddenly surprised by a lurking enemy. Herbert and Bob stood there for a moment, boldly facing him. Not a word was spoken on either side.The banker took a position where he could watch the effect of this strange meeting upon both parties. He saw the color fade from young Mortimer’s face, and a look of unmistakable fear spread over it. In fact, his whole manner betrayed the alarm that now possessed him.In strong contrast to the appearance of this young villain was Herbert Randolph’s frank, truthful look. He had no cause for fear. The peculiar fire that shone in his eyes revealed a meaning that was at once impressive and determined. Before him stood one who had wronged him outrageously, stolen his position away from him, and blackened his character with ingenious falsehood.Our hero thought of all this, and his blood boiled with manly indignation. Had he been alone with Mortimer, I fearthe latter would have suffered then and there the penalty for his villainy. But discretion was now the sensible course for Herbert, and he wisely restrained himself from an unbecoming demonstration of hostility.“Do you know these young men?” asked the banker, sharply, addressing young Mortimer.“I know one of them, sir—that is, I saw him here the morning you advertised for a boy,” replied Felix, commencing to rally.“I recollect the fact. You refer to Herbert Randolph, I presume?”“Yes, sir.”“I think you told me something about his getting another position, and this, you said, was probably the reason why he failed to continue working at this bank.”“Yes, sir,” replied Mortimer, with bold effrontery.“What have you to say to this young man’s statement, Mr. Randolph?” said the banker.Felix Mortimer’s manner had already raised Mr. Goldwin’s suspicions, but he wished to be doubly sure, and thus he proceeded carefully with the investigation.“His statement is wholly false,” was our hero’s reply. “It was his miserable villainy that deprived me of my liberty, and kept me away from my work.”Mr. Goldwin looked puzzled.“The plot thickens,” said he. “Give me your story.”Herbert related how he had been victimized, telling the facts much as I have given them in the preceding chapters of this narrative.“Tell him about the knock out,” put in Bob, who evidently thought this one of the best parts of the story.“What was that?” asked the banker.Herbert explained.“So that was what gave you the swollen jaw, was it?” said Mr. Goldwin, addressing Felix Mortimer in a severe tone.“No, it was not,” said he. “I told you what did it, and I don’t propose to hear any more lies from street fellows like these,” added Mortimer, contemptuously, and at the same time moving towards the door.“Stop!” said the banker, firmly. “You will not leave this room till this matter is cleared up.”Young Mortimer winced, and Bob Hunter looked up at Herbert, and smiled suggestively.“Mr. Randolph, this fellow stated to me yesterday that you were not from Vermont, that you are an impostor. What have you to say to this?”“I can only say that I told you the truth.”“Have you any way of proving your statement?”“Here is a letter that I received this morning from my mother,” said Herbert, handing it to the banker. “This, I think, will sustain my word.”“The envelope is postmarked Fairbury, Vermont,” replied Mr. Goldwin, scrutinizing it closely.“You may read the letter,” said our hero. “It will doubtless convince you of my truthfulness.”It ran as follows:Fairbury, Vt., Thursday, November 12th.My Dear Son:Your letter reached us this evening, and it lifted a great load of anxiety from our hearts, for we could not help fearing some ill luck might have overtaken you—a stranger and an inexperienced boy in so great a city as New York.Your father and I rejoice at your good fortune, and feel proud that our boy should be chosen by the banker from among so large a number of applicants for the same position. Your excellent start gives us fresh courage to fight the battle of life overagain, and to try and regain our property, or so much of it as will be necessary to support us comfortably in our old age.Your father’s eyes filled with tears of joy when I read your letter to him, and he said I might tell you that he feels rich in the possession of a son who has health, energy, and good principles, and who has shown himself able to make his way in the world unaided. He thinks you now have an excellent opportunity for commencing a prosperous career. From what you wrote of Mr. Goldwin, the banker, we think he must be a very nice man, and we are heartily glad that you can have his influence thrown about you to strengthen you against the evils you should shun.We were greatly amused at the picture you gave of Bob Hunter the newsboy. You must find him very entertaining. Write us some more about him. His droll talk reads like a novel. Your father laughed heartily at it.Be sure and write us two or three times a week, for you know we are entirely alone now you are away. With love from your father and myself, I will say good by for today.Your Mother.Mr. Goldwin commenced to read this letter aloud, but before he had finished it his voice choked, and he reached for his handkerchief with which to dry his moist eyes.The picture it presented of the Vermont father and mother, so deeply interested in their only boy, brought fresh to the banker’s mind his own parental home, and he saw himself once more bidding good by to his father and mother, as he left them and the old farm, a mere boy, to seek a livelihood in the great metropolis.Presently he overcame this emotion, and turning to youngRandolph, said, sternly:"This letter, which I hold in my hand, not only proves Mr. Randolph’s truthfulness, but it convicts you of a base falsehood. You deceived me by your artful lying, and now you have the effrontery to stand up before me and before this young man, whom you have so cruelly wronged, and boldly deny everything. You are the most polished young villain I ever knew.“Young man,” continued the banker, addressing Bob, and without waiting for Mortimer to reply, “what do you know about this matter?”“I guess I know ’bout everything,” said the young detective, glad of a chance to have his say.“You remarked that it was lucky that you found out something before it was too late for us here at the bank, I believe?”“Yes, sir, you are right.”“Will you please tell us the facts?”Bob related the conversation he had heard between old Gunwagner and Felix Mortimer, relative to bank robbing.“So that was your scheme in getting in here, was it? you young villain!” said Mr. Goldwin, angrily addressing Felix Mortimer.“I refuse to answer the charges made by these confederates. They are telling what has no truth in it, and are deceiving you, as you will learn to your sorrow,” replied Felix, still maintaining a good degree of boldness.Richard Goldwin, however, was too good a judge of human nature to be further imposed upon by the tricks of young Mortimer.“But you will be forced to answer to the charges sooner or later, sir,” said the banker. “The court will compel you to do so.”The court!These words made young Mortimer wince, and his nerve palpably weakened. He muttered some unintelligible reply—whether a threat or not none present knew.“How came you to overhear this conversation between the old fence and this fellow?” asked Mr. Goldwin of Bob Hunter.young randolph and bob hunter confront felix mortimer and charge him with his villainy.The young detective here related the whole story, telling why he suspected Mortimer, how he saw him at the bank in Herbert’s place, how he shadowed him up Broadway—told ofthe bootblacking scene, in which he got the essential facts from Peter Smartweed and Mortimer; related his manner of gaining admittance to the fence, and told of the trick he played upon the old man and Felix—the trick that enabled him to carry out to success his scheme for liberating Herbert Randolph.“And you did all of this alone?” asked the banker, with genuine astonishment.“Yes, sir,” replied Bob, carelessly, as if it didn’t amount to much.“I cannot realize it,” said Mr. Goldwin, admiringly. “A professional detective could not have done better, and probably would have fallen far short of doing as well.”“I didn’t think nothin’ of it,” returned Bob. “’Twas easy enough, and ’twas kinder of excitin’, too.”“And you liked the excitement?”Bob admitted that he did, but was very modest about his triumph, and was not disposed to look upon it as any great feat now it was all over. But Mr. Goldwin assured him, in most complimentary terms, that great credit was due to him for the skill and bravery he had displayed.Meanwhile Felix Mortimer had been slyly inching towards a door that was a little to his left; and now that Mr. Goldwin’s attention was centered upon young Bob Hunter, he seized the opportunity, and made a mad plunge for liberty. His movements, however, had been detected by Herbert Randolph, and he no sooner reached the door than the young Vermonter grasped him firmly by the collar, and jerked him back.Mortimer’s effort to escape prompted Mr. Goldwin to sound the alarm for a policeman. An officer responded promptly, and immediately arrested the young criminal, and took him to the station house, where he was locked into a cell.“I was never so deceived in a boy in my life,” remarked the banker, with a troubled look, when the officer had gone with his prisoner. “He has a remarkably strong character, and had he taken the right course in life, would have made an able man. It always makes me sad to see a bright boy, just entering upon his career, start in a way that is sure to result in disgrace and ruin.”“His associates have doubtless had a bad influence over him,” said Herbert, as if trying to soften the boy’s offense.“It is certainly praiseworthy in you, Mr. Randolph, to speak so kindly of one who caused you so much suffering as that boy did,” returned Mr. Goldwin.“Well, since his evil purpose has recoiled upon himself, he is now the chief sufferer; and besides, I do not think he wanted to injure me farther than to get me out of his way. And he knew no other plan, I suppose, than to keep me a prisoner.”“I am glad to see you view the matter so charitably,” said the banker, warmly, for he appreciated highly this glimpse of Herbert’s character.“But what do you say to old Gunwagner?” put in Bob.“I think he is a heartless old wretch,” answered young Randolph, with fire in his eyes. “It is he who abused me so cruelly.”“You say he, too, is locked up now?” asked Mr. Goldwin.“Yes.”“Do you think he has any property?”“I should judge so. In fact, he tried to buy us off when he found we had him cornered.”“It is possible that you may be able to get damages for false imprisonment,” said the banker, thoughtfully.“I had not thought of that,” returned Herbert.“Mind you, I said it was possible only, so do not have too great hopes of such a result.”“No, I will not, and the damage was not much, unless I lost my situation with you,” replied Herbert, somewhat anxiously.“No, you have not lost that, for I shall reinstate you at once. You have proved yourself to be the sort of young man I desire in my business.”“Thank you, sir, for your compliment, and especially for reinstating me. I should be very sorry to lose this position, and I know my father and mother would feel badly, too.”“Do not worry about that, my boy. Employers are as anxious to get desirable clerks as clerks are eager to be employed. But to return to the matter of false imprisonment, I will state the case to my lawyer, and see what there is in it. Of course it would be no use to fight him if he is worth nothing.”“He said he had plenty of money—enough to make us all rich,” put in Bob, with some enthusiasm. “It would be a great act to make him come down handsome. I’d like to see it done.”“Those fellows usually have a lot of money,” said Mr. Goldwin, “and I agree with Bob—I will call you by that name hereafter—that it would be gratifying to recover damages.”“That’s right, I like to be called Bob—everybody calls me that.”“Well, Bob, you are a character. I shall take a great interest in your development, for I think you have done the smartest thing, in getting your friend out of old Gunwagner’s clutches, that I ever knew a boy of your age to do.”Bob’s cheeks became highly colored. He had not been accustomed to praise, and such compliments as these from a rich banker were unwieldy for him.“Tom Flannery helped me,” said the young detective, generously trying to throw some of the glory upon Tom.“Tom Flannery! Who is he?”“He is a fellow what sells papers too. Me and him worked this case up together.”“What sort of a boy is he—sharp, like yourself, I suppose?”“Well, he done some good work helpin’ me,” replied Bob, evading the question as to Tom’s keenness.The fact is that young Flannery was not wonderfully sharp; but Bob liked him for his honest, good natured self, and, therefore, would only speak in praise of him.The banker drew Bob out, and learned of the fire act that Tom performed so satisfactorily. But his keen sense detected the truth of the matter, and he was satisfied as to where the real merit lay.“Bob,” said he, “your modesty and your efforts to throw much of the credit on Tom Flannery are certainly becoming to you. I like you for the spirit you show in the matter. But, nevertheless, I recognize in you the chief of the undertaking—the one who planned and carried out the entire scheme. Now, here is a little present for you; I want you to take it and buy you a good suit of clothes, so that you will be as well dressed as Herbert. I believe you room together?”“Yes, we do,” said Bob. “But I don’t want no present. I can earn some money to buy clothes with.”“But I want you to take it,” replied Mr. Goldwin. “You have done a great act of kindness to Herbert, and to me as well, for sooner or later we would doubtless have suffered a loss by Felix Mortimer.”Bob took the crisp new bills reluctantly—four of them, five dollars each—twenty dollars—he had never held so muchmoney in his hands at any one time before, and this was all his own.He felt bewildered. After a moment’s pause, however, he said, “Mayn’t I give some of this to Tom Flannery?”“I expected you would say that,” replied the banker, enjoying Bob’s surprise, “so I retained a five dollar bill for Tom. Here it is; give it to him with my regards. He, too, did us a service in aiding you as he did.”Bob’s joy was now beyond expression. He looked, however, the thankfulness that he could not find words to express.“You may go now,” said Mr. Goldwin, kindly. “I will keep you in mind, and see what I can do for you. Come and see me within a few days.”Bob thanked Mr. Goldwin heartily, and left the bank, overflowing with happiness. When the young detective had gone, Mr. Goldwin asked Herbert many questions about him.“I think he is a promising lad,” said the banker. “I have taken a great liking to him. He has a droll, comical way that is very pleasing.”CHAPTER XXI.TWO YOUNG CAPITALISTS.“Is that you, Bob Hunter?” said Tom Flannery, his eyes opened wide with surprise.“I should think it is,” laughed the young detective.“Say, Bob, where did you get ’em?” continued Tom, somewhat in doubt of his own senses.“Why, I bought ’em, of course. How does anybody get new clothes?”“They are slick, though, ain’t they, Bob?” said young Flannery, admiringly, “and they fit stunnin’, too. You must er struck a snap somewhere, Bob.”“I should think I did,” replied the latter; “the best snap any er the boys ever struck.”“Bob, you was always lucky. I wish I was as lucky as what you are. I never strike no snaps, Bob.”“Don’t you?” said young Hunter, meditatively.“No, they don’t never come my way,” responded Tom, dolefully.Bob turned the lapels of his coat back and threw out his chest ponderously.“Tom,” said he, with the air of a Wall Street banker, “here’s a five for you,” taking a new, crisp bill from his vest pocket.“For me, Bob!” exclaimed Tom, incredulously.“Why, yes, of course it’s for you. Why not?”“I don’t understand it, Bob,” said young Flannery, completely upset.“Why, it’s one of them snaps. You said you never had any luck like me, so I thought I’d just give you some.”“Bob, you’re a dandy. I never see any feller do things the way you do.”“Well, I do try to throw a little style into ’em, when it’s handy to do it.”“I should think you do.”“You see, Tom, it don’t cost no more to do things as they ought to be. I believe in doing ’em right, that’s what I say.”
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 assault 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.
While old Gunwagner was a cruel, heartless man, he nevertheless lacked genuine courage. Like the majority of men of his class, he was a coward at heart. He therefore readily gave up the struggle, when surprised by Herbert Randolph.
“It’s your turn now, old man,” said our young hero, triumphantly. “Last night you pounced upon me, and seemed to like it. Now perhaps you will enjoy this!”
A coarse oath, characteristic of the old villain, was the reply.
“You may as well submit decently. You are in our power now, and if you behave yourself, you will save us the necessity of compelling you to obey.”
The old fence grated his teeth, and looked the very incarnation of all that was evil. The wicked spirit that shone in his face would have afforded a rare study for a painter. He made a movement of his right hand, as if to reach back to his hip pocket. A movement of this sort, under such circumstances, is considered suggestive of firearms.
Bob did not wait to see whether he was reaching for a revolver or some other ugly weapon, but instantly fell upon this hand, and secured it. The other hand was in Herbert’s firm grasp, so it was useless for the old fence to struggle further.
“My turn has come now to get square with you, you cruel old sinner,” said Herbert. “I begged of you to take me out of that foul cellar and away from those dreadful rats, but you showed no mercy.”
Gunwagner made no reply.
“Yes, and he was goin’ to send you off on some kind of a ship tomorrow, so you would never get back to New York no more,” said Bob.
“Send me off on a ship!” exclaimed our hero, with a shudder. He had not until now even imagined the full purpose of his enemies.
“Yes, that’s what they said tonight, him and that Mortimer feller.”
“And you heard this?”
“Yes, when I was in that box under the counter there,” replied Bob, with enthusiasm; “and they talked about bank robbin’, too.”
At this revelation old Gunwagner seemed to give up allhope. The hardness of his face melted into an expression of pain, and he trembled with fear, like the frightened thing that he was. He had been outwitted by the young detective.
“Richard Goldwin’s bank, I suppose,” replied young Randolph, almost dazed at the audacity of the villains.
“Yes, that was their game in getting you out of the way.”
“I didn’t think of that before.”
“Well, you hain’t been in New York very long, and so you don’t know the way they do things here—them that is bad, like this gang.”
“How did you find out where I was, and how in the world did you manage to get in here without being seen?”
“Well, you see, I was a detective,” said Bob, with a show of pride.
“A detective!” exclaimed the young Vermonter, looking at his friend with the innocent wonder of a country boy.
“Yes, but I hain’t got no time to tell you about it now. We must be movin’, you see.”
“So we must,” replied Herbert.
Doubtless old Gunwagner, too, would have liked much to hear Bob relate how he discovered his friend’s prison. But even this small satisfaction was denied him.
“What’s the first move?” said Bob.
“I have been thinking about that,” replied our hero.
“Of course, we must have him arrested.”
“Certainly we must.”
“Oh, no, don’t, don’t!” pleaded the old man, speaking for the first time.
“It is too late to plead now,” said young Randolph. “You should have thought of this before committing the evil that you have done.”
“But I am an old man, and he led me into it.”
“Who?”
“Mortimer, Felix Mortimer. If it hadn’t been for him, I wouldn’t er done it.”
“Oh, that don’t go with us,” said Bob. “I heard the whole story tonight. You was into the game with him, and now you’re trapped you wanter squeal, that’s what you do. But it won’t do you no good. You are a bad lot from way back—gettin’ boys to steal things for you!”
This was a revelation to young Randolph, as he did not know until now that old Gunwagner kept a fence.
“Don’t have me arrested, boys,” whined the old villain, now trying to work on their sympathy. “It would kill me. I am so old.”
“Do you expect sympathy from me, after your heartless treatment?” said Herbert.
“He made me do it,” was the reply, referring to Mortimer.
“Nonsense, you could have taken me out of that old cellar if you had wanted to do so.”
“Yes, and do you think you would er showed me any sympathy, if you’d got me into your clutches alone?” put in Bob.
“I wouldn’t have been hard on you.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” said the young detective, sarcastically. “Your talk tonight, when I was hid away, sounded as if you wouldn’t er been hard on me—oh, no, you wouldn’t. I could tell that from the way you plunged at me just now, when you came through that door with your war paint on.”
BOB GOES FOR AN OFFICER.
Old Gunwagner saw quite clearly that any further effort to play upon the boys’ sympathy was useless.
The first shock of his surprise was over, and now the subtle cunning of his nature began to reassert itself.
“Boys, you have the advantage of me at present,” said he, softly. “But I can’t see how it will pay you to act foolish.”
“What do you mean?” asked Herbert.
“I mean that it will pay you a good deal better to make terms with me.”
“How so?”
“Would you like to be rich?” was the reply.
“I suppose every American wants to be rich, and I guess we are no exception, are we, Bob?”
“I should think we ain’t,” replied the latter.
“So I thought,” said the old fence, “and it’s in my power to make you rich.”
The boys were listening to subtle, dangerous words.
“How can you do that?” said Bob, growing interested.
“There are a number of ways that I might do it. In the first place, I could give both of you all the money you will ever need, and still be rich myself.”
“But a man isn’t likely to give away so much,” said Herbert.
“You must have a payin’ business,” observed the young detective.
“Of course I must, and that is the point I am coming at. You boys have shown yourselves keen lads, and I always like to help such boys along, for I was poor once myself. Now my proposition is this: I’ll give you both a show in the business here with me.”
“No, sir, thank you, we do not care to go into a dishonest business like this,” said Herbert, emphatically, speaking for both Bob and himself.
“Not if you could each make ten thousand a year, clean money?”
“No; not if we could make ten times that,” replied our hero.
“You could have a good time on ten thousand a year—boys of your age.”
“Not on stolen money.”
“It wouldn’t be on stolen money.”
“It looks very much like it, when you buy stolen goods.”
“Yes, and fix up a job for bank robbin’,” added Bob.
“Well, suppose it does look so, why couldn’t you enjoy the money just as much?”
“Because it wouldn’t be right for us to have it,” returned our hero.
“Boys, you are not so old as I am. I’ve seen a good deal of life. Money is money, and it don’t matter where it comes from, it will buy just as much.”
“It will not always buy one his liberty,” replied young Randolph, coolly.
This remark came close home to the old fence, and disconcerted him for a minute. Presently, however, he rallied, and said:
“Do you think one has his liberty, as you call it, when he is poor—so poor that he can have no luxuries?”
“To be sure he does. Why not?”
“You will change your mind some day, and perhaps it will be too late.”
“I hope I shall never change my mind in favor of dishonesty and crime.”
“Do you know that a boy’s chance to get rich hardly ever comes to him but once in his life?” continued old Gunwagner, undaunted.
“No, and I don’t believe it is so, either.”
“Another evidence of your inexperience. When you get older, you will look back and see what I tell you is true; and if you miss this chance you will never get another one like it.”
“We don’t want another one like it, so it’s no use to talk about it any more.”
“That’s so,” said Bob; “he hain’t got no interest in us; I can see through his trick.”
“You are mistaken, young man. If you don’t want to go into the business here yourselves, I’ll give you an interest in it, if you will do nothing to injure it. You see, you know about the business here now, and if you should give it away to the police, why it would hurt it, don’t you understand?”
“Yes, we understand it too well, but do not want an interest in it,” said Herbert.
“It would pay you well,” persisted the old fence; “say about seven to ten thousand dollars each every year, and you needn’t come anear it—just take your dividends every week, and that’s all.”
“Well, we don’t want no such dividends,” said Bob; “nor we couldn’t get ’em if we did want ’em, that’s all.”
“You are mistaken again, for if you think the business don’t pay as well as I say, why I can show you the money.”
“Got it with you?” said Bob.
This question pleased the old fence, and gave him renewed courage. He thought now that perhaps there was yet hope for him.
“I have it in the house,” said he.
“In cash?”
“Yes, and I can get it if you want to see it.”
“Don’t see how you’re goin’ to get it, the way you are fixed now,” continued Bob.
“Well, if you will not let me go for it, I can tell you where to find it.”
“Can you? Well, where is it?”
“It is in my bedroom, in the further end of the house. You will find it in the thick wallet, under my pillow.”
“Well, we will take your word for it, seein’ we don’t need the money for anything, and wouldn’t take it nohow,” said the young detective, who divined the purpose of the old fence.
“But if you don’t get it, how can I make you boys a present? You will not allow me to go for it,” said the fence, fearing his scheme had failed him.
“We don’t want no present, so don’t worry yourself about that.”
“We prefer taking you with us, rather than the present,” said Herbert.
“Old man,” continued Bob, “your game didn’t work. All you wanted was to get me out of the way so you could er layed Vermont out. But it warn’t no go. You was too anxious to give away money. I could see all the time what you was aimin’ at.”
The old fence protested against this interpretation of his motives, but the boys were too keen for him. Young Bob Hunter had been knocking about the streets of New York too long to be very easily taken in by this old Gunwagner. His wits had been sharpened to a high degree in his long struggle for bread, and his knowledge of human nature was as superior to that of Herbert Randolph as the latter’s general education was superior to Bob’s.
gunwagner in the handsof the police.
Finding it impossible to work upon the sympathy of the boys, that buying them off was out of the question, and that the scheme to outwit them had proved a flat failure, Gunwagner nowturned to the last weapon which he could hope to use with any possible effect.
“So you have made up your mind to take me with you?” said he, looking hard at Herbert.
“Yes,” replied the latter, firmly.
“You will make the biggest mistake of your life, if you attempt such an outrage.”
“An outrage! Is that what you call it, when a detective takes a bird like you in?” said Bob Hunter, in his characteristic manner.
The old fence looked fiercely at him.
“My friends are all around here, and I can raise a dozen of them before you could get me half a block away.”
“We do not feel uneasy about your so called friends,” said young Randolph. “But if you prefer it, we will send for an officer, and let him take you.”
“If your friends go back on you the way Mortimer done tonight, when he told you he would look out for himself, and let you fight it out alone, why, then I guess me and Vermont needn’t bother much about your gang.”
Further intimidation was tried by Gunwagner, but all to no purpose, for now the boys were in the act of fastening together the wrists of the old fence, and binding them securely to a chair. When this had been done, so that they no longer felt any insecurity, they took from his pocket the keys to both doors leading to the street, and Bob Hunter started for an officer. Young Randolph remained with the prisoner, because he was stronger than Bob, and therefore would be the better able to handle him, should he by any means get his hands loose.
Now every hope had failed the old man. He saw nothingbut Sing Sing before him. His evil purpose had at last recoiled upon him, and he was a prisoner in the hands of one who but a few hours before had begged of him for mercy.
While waiting for the return of Bob with the officer, Herbert asked Gunwagner if the money he had made in crooked and unlawful ways had brought him happiness. He made no audible reply, but sat with his head bent low. An answer, however, was conveyed to our young hero by a silent tear that made its way slowly down the wrinkled and aged face of the old man, whose life had been worse than wasted, for it had been an evil one.
TOM FLANNERY IS HUNGRY.
It was past midnight when Herbert Randolph and Bob Hunter reached their room. The old fence had meanwhile been taken to the station house by an officer. Both boys were sleepy and well nigh exhausted, so they immediately sought rest.
Bob, however, was up at his usual hour in the morning, and off to look after his paper trade. Business proved good with him on this occasion—unusually good—so that his profits amounted to quite a nice little sum. He therefore planned to give Herbert a good warm breakfast, something better than it had been their custom to eat.
Presently Tom Flannery appeared.
“You here, Bob?” said the latter, with surprise. “I thought you was done for, sure.”
“What made you think that, Tom?”
“Why, because you didn’t show up.”
“You didn’t wait for me, did you?”
“Didn’t I? Well, I should think I did, till near twelve o’clock, too, when I was so near froze I couldn’t stay no longer; and Bob, I thought it was all up with you.”
“Why, Tom, you hadn’t oughter staid. I told you to go home after you lit the fire.”
“I know you did, Bob, but I didn’t feel like goin’ home and leavin’ you alone in that den. You see I thought you might need me.”
“Tom, you’ve got more sand than I thought you had. I wish I coulder fixed it so you coulder been on the inside too.”
“I wish you could, Bob. Was it excitin’?”
“Excitin’! Well, wasn’t it, though! I never saw anything like it. But I say, Tom, that was a great go. You done it splendid.”
“What’s that, Bob?”
“Why, the fire act. I don’t believe nobody could beat that.”
Tom enjoyed this praise hugely.
“I wouldn’t like to a’ been in your place, Bob,” said he, “when you was in that dark room, nor when old Gunwagner and that other feller was huntin’ for you.”
“No, I thought you wouldn’t, Tom, and I didn’t want to be there neither.”
“’Twas a big detective job, wasn’t it, Bob?”
“Well, ’twas a pretty fair one, I guess.”
“And you got it all up yourself,” continued Tom, admiringly. “I wish I could do things the way you do, Bob.”
“Well, you see, Tom, you hain’t had so much experience as what I have, but you’ll come out all right, and make a big detective, I know you will.”
Bob stopped talking to sell a paper, and after making change and pocketing his profit, he continued:
“Now, Tom, I tell you what ’tis: you and me and Herbert will eat breakfast together, when he comes down.”
“When will he be down?” asked Tom, his hand dropping instinctively upon his empty stomach.
Tom Flannery was known among his crowd of street lads as the hungry boy. He was always ready to eat, and never seemed to get enough food to satisfy the cravings of his appetite. This invitation, therefore, was very welcome to him.
“It’s ’bout time for him now,” replied Bob, in answer to Tom’s question.
“I wish he would come,” said Tom, looking hungrier than usual.
“He is probably making up sleep,” said the young detective.
“How much sleep has he got to make up, Bob?” asked Tom, seriously.
“I don’t know exactly, but I guess pretty near a whole night.”
“A whole night!” exclaimed Tom, dubiously. “He ain’t goin’ to make it all up this morning, is he, Bob?”
Tom’s hand rested suggestively upon his stomach again.
“Shucks! Tom Flannery, if you ain’t a idiot, I never saw one! To think Herbert Randolph would sleep all day! Didn’t I tell you he would be right down?”
“So you did, Bob. I forgot that; but you see I wanted to be sure, cause I haven’t had nothin’ to eat yet today.”
Bob looked at his companion with an air of disdain, and made no reply.
Tom, however, was not over sensitive, so he kept on talking about Bob’s adventure at the fence. In the course of half an hour he got the whole story from the young detective. Bob not only told him his own adventures, but gave him all of Herbert’s experience, which he had himself learned from our hero.
It was now about a quarter to nine. Tom looked suggestively at the big hands on the City Hall clock, but said nothing about young Randolph’s non-appearance.
“I don’t see what keeps him,” said Bob, knowing full well what Tom was thinking about.
“Nor I don’t either, Bob. I guess he won’t be down very early.”
“Well, there wasn’t nothin’ to bring him down early.”
“But you expected him, didn’t you, Bob?”
“Of course I did, Tom Flannery. Didn’t I ask you to eat breakfast with me and him?”
“Yes, you did, Bob, and that was what I was thinking about.”
“Well, what did you think about it?”
“I was wonderin’ if you meant this mornin’, or some other mornin’.”
Tom had hardly finished this remark, when Herbert Randolph approached from the Broadway entrance and spoke to Bob.
“This is Tom Flannery, what helped me do the detective act,” said the latter, by way of introduction. “You know I told you about him.”
“Oh, yes, I remember, and I am glad to meet you, Tom Flannery,” replied young Randolph, extending his hand to Tom.
“So am I glad to see you,” said young Flannery; “me and Bob here have been waitin’ for you more’n two hours.”
“Oh, Tom Flannery!” exclaimed Bob. “What are you talkin’ that way for? ’Tain’t a quarter so much that we’ve been waitin’, and you know it.”
“Seems like ’twas a half a day to me, any way,” protested Tom, with his hand again moving towards the seat of his digestion.
“The trouble is with Tom Flannery that he is alwaysstarvin’. I never see such a hungry boy,” explained the young detective.
“I can’t help it,” answered Tom; “I like to eat.”
Bob explained to Herbert that they had been waiting for him to join them for breakfast.
“I am sorry,” said young Randolph, “but I ate my breakfast on the way down.”
Tom Flannery was disheartened.
“Never mind, Tom,” said Bob; “we will have the breakfast some other mornin’—you and me and Vermont.”
When it was time for Mr. Goldwin to get down to business, our hero and the young detective started for the banking house.
A surprise awaited Felix Mortimer.
THE RIVALS AT THE BANK.
“Do you s’pose we will find that Mortimer feller at the bank?” asked Bob, as he and young Randolph passed down Broadway towards Wall Street.
“Very likely we shall,” responded our hero, absentmindedly.
“If he has heard of old Gunwagner’s arrest, you bet he won’t be there.”
“The papers contained nothing about the arrest, did they?”
“No, not as I seen.”
“Then the chances are that he is there.”
“So I think. But what will you do, Vermont, if he is?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“You won’t lick him, will you?”
“Oh, no, that wouldn’t be a wise policy to pursue.”
“But he deserves it.”
“So he does, but I can’t afford to lower myself by fighting.”
“That’s so, Vermont; but, all the same, I’d like to see you lay him out once—the way you did at Gunwagner’s—he deserves it.”
“He deserves to be punished, but I think the law will do that.”
“’Tain’t quick enough,” said Bob, petulantly. “A fellergets all over his mad before he gets any satisfaction out of law.”
“You are a comical chap, Bob,” said Herbert; “but you have been one of the best friends I ever knew. If you had not come to my rescue, I should probably never have walked down this street again.”
“Oh, that’s all right,” replied the young detective. “Don’t say nothing about it.”
The two boys had now reached the banking house of Richard Goldwin. Their conversation, therefore, terminated as they entered the bank.
Just as the door was opened to them, Mr. Goldwin came out of his private office, and his eyes fell upon Herbert and Bob.
“What do you mean, sir, by appearing in this bank again?” he asked, with a stern glance at young Randolph.
It must be remembered that he believed the story told to him by Felix Mortimer, and therefore looked upon Herbert with grave suspicions, or even contempt.
The banker’s manner and implied insinuation wounded young Randolph’s pride, and his cheeks became crimson.
“If you are not already prejudiced, I think, sir, I can explain to your entire satisfaction,” said our young hero, with a native dignity well becoming his manliness.
“It’s jest what I told you yesterday mornin’,” put in Bob. “Foul play—that’s what it was.”
“I think I am not prejudiced to such an extent that I am incapable of dealing justly with you,” replied Mr. Goldwin, giving no heed to Bob’s remark.
“Thank you,” said Herbert. “I am sure you are not, and if you will listen to me, I will explain everything.”
“A mere explanation from you, however, will not convince me.”
“It should do so,” replied Herbert, still further wounded by this cold remark.
“Not at all, since you have deceived me once.”
“I have never deceived you, sir,” answered young Randolph, with spirit.
“Of course you would say so,” returned the banker, coolly.
“Most certainly I would, sir, when I am telling you the truth.”
“Have you any evidence to sustain your position?” asked Mr. Goldwin.
“Yes, sir,” replied Herbert; “my friend here can testify that I have not deceived you. He knows the whole story—the plot from first to last.”
Herbert Randolph’s bold, straightforward manner impressed the banker favorably, and he now became less frigid towards him.
“There has evidently been deception somewhere,” said Mr. Goldwin. “Why any one should plot against you, with a view to getting you out of this bank, I cannot understand.”
“I think Bob Hunter here can make it plain to you. He knows the whole scheme.”
“And it warn’t no small scheme, neither,” responded Bob. “It’s lucky for you that we got on to it before it was too late.”
“What do you mean by this insinuation, young man?”
“Well, if you want to know, I’ll tell you. Perhaps you remember I was down here yesterday to see you, and I told you somethin’ was wrong then—didn’t I?”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t believe it, but just talked against Herbert Randolph here.”
“But I had good cause for doing so.”
“Yes, if you think that stuff that Felix Mortimer give you was any cause, then you did have some; but he was jest lyin’ to you, that’s what he was doin’, and I know it; and what’s more, I can prove it,” said Bob, boldly and bluntly.
“You are making a strong statement,” replied the banker, somewhat bewildered.
“I know I am, but I couldn’t say nothin’ too strong about that Mortimer feller.”
“Felix Mortimer is in my private office. Dare you come in and face him with these remarks?”
“You bet I dare—that’s jest what I want to do.”
“You shall do so, then,” said the banker.
Herbert Randolph and Bob Hunter followed him, at his invitation, into his private room.
FELIX MORTIMER DISCOMFITED.
Felix Mortimer sat at a desk facing the door, and was writing when the banker and the two boys entered the room. He did not look up till Herbert and Bob had advanced several steps toward him, and stopped. But his eyes now met theirs, and he sprang to his feet like one suddenly surprised by a lurking enemy. Herbert and Bob stood there for a moment, boldly facing him. Not a word was spoken on either side.
The banker took a position where he could watch the effect of this strange meeting upon both parties. He saw the color fade from young Mortimer’s face, and a look of unmistakable fear spread over it. In fact, his whole manner betrayed the alarm that now possessed him.
In strong contrast to the appearance of this young villain was Herbert Randolph’s frank, truthful look. He had no cause for fear. The peculiar fire that shone in his eyes revealed a meaning that was at once impressive and determined. Before him stood one who had wronged him outrageously, stolen his position away from him, and blackened his character with ingenious falsehood.
Our hero thought of all this, and his blood boiled with manly indignation. Had he been alone with Mortimer, I fearthe latter would have suffered then and there the penalty for his villainy. But discretion was now the sensible course for Herbert, and he wisely restrained himself from an unbecoming demonstration of hostility.
“Do you know these young men?” asked the banker, sharply, addressing young Mortimer.
“I know one of them, sir—that is, I saw him here the morning you advertised for a boy,” replied Felix, commencing to rally.
“I recollect the fact. You refer to Herbert Randolph, I presume?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I think you told me something about his getting another position, and this, you said, was probably the reason why he failed to continue working at this bank.”
“Yes, sir,” replied Mortimer, with bold effrontery.
“What have you to say to this young man’s statement, Mr. Randolph?” said the banker.
Felix Mortimer’s manner had already raised Mr. Goldwin’s suspicions, but he wished to be doubly sure, and thus he proceeded carefully with the investigation.
“His statement is wholly false,” was our hero’s reply. “It was his miserable villainy that deprived me of my liberty, and kept me away from my work.”
Mr. Goldwin looked puzzled.
“The plot thickens,” said he. “Give me your story.”
Herbert related how he had been victimized, telling the facts much as I have given them in the preceding chapters of this narrative.
“Tell him about the knock out,” put in Bob, who evidently thought this one of the best parts of the story.
“What was that?” asked the banker.
Herbert explained.
“So that was what gave you the swollen jaw, was it?” said Mr. Goldwin, addressing Felix Mortimer in a severe tone.
“No, it was not,” said he. “I told you what did it, and I don’t propose to hear any more lies from street fellows like these,” added Mortimer, contemptuously, and at the same time moving towards the door.
“Stop!” said the banker, firmly. “You will not leave this room till this matter is cleared up.”
Young Mortimer winced, and Bob Hunter looked up at Herbert, and smiled suggestively.
“Mr. Randolph, this fellow stated to me yesterday that you were not from Vermont, that you are an impostor. What have you to say to this?”
“I can only say that I told you the truth.”
“Have you any way of proving your statement?”
“Here is a letter that I received this morning from my mother,” said Herbert, handing it to the banker. “This, I think, will sustain my word.”
“The envelope is postmarked Fairbury, Vermont,” replied Mr. Goldwin, scrutinizing it closely.
“You may read the letter,” said our hero. “It will doubtless convince you of my truthfulness.”
It ran as follows:
Fairbury, Vt., Thursday, November 12th.
My Dear Son:Your letter reached us this evening, and it lifted a great load of anxiety from our hearts, for we could not help fearing some ill luck might have overtaken you—a stranger and an inexperienced boy in so great a city as New York.Your father and I rejoice at your good fortune, and feel proud that our boy should be chosen by the banker from among so large a number of applicants for the same position. Your excellent start gives us fresh courage to fight the battle of life overagain, and to try and regain our property, or so much of it as will be necessary to support us comfortably in our old age.Your father’s eyes filled with tears of joy when I read your letter to him, and he said I might tell you that he feels rich in the possession of a son who has health, energy, and good principles, and who has shown himself able to make his way in the world unaided. He thinks you now have an excellent opportunity for commencing a prosperous career. From what you wrote of Mr. Goldwin, the banker, we think he must be a very nice man, and we are heartily glad that you can have his influence thrown about you to strengthen you against the evils you should shun.We were greatly amused at the picture you gave of Bob Hunter the newsboy. You must find him very entertaining. Write us some more about him. His droll talk reads like a novel. Your father laughed heartily at it.Be sure and write us two or three times a week, for you know we are entirely alone now you are away. With love from your father and myself, I will say good by for today.
My Dear Son:
Your letter reached us this evening, and it lifted a great load of anxiety from our hearts, for we could not help fearing some ill luck might have overtaken you—a stranger and an inexperienced boy in so great a city as New York.
Your father and I rejoice at your good fortune, and feel proud that our boy should be chosen by the banker from among so large a number of applicants for the same position. Your excellent start gives us fresh courage to fight the battle of life overagain, and to try and regain our property, or so much of it as will be necessary to support us comfortably in our old age.
Your father’s eyes filled with tears of joy when I read your letter to him, and he said I might tell you that he feels rich in the possession of a son who has health, energy, and good principles, and who has shown himself able to make his way in the world unaided. He thinks you now have an excellent opportunity for commencing a prosperous career. From what you wrote of Mr. Goldwin, the banker, we think he must be a very nice man, and we are heartily glad that you can have his influence thrown about you to strengthen you against the evils you should shun.
We were greatly amused at the picture you gave of Bob Hunter the newsboy. You must find him very entertaining. Write us some more about him. His droll talk reads like a novel. Your father laughed heartily at it.
Be sure and write us two or three times a week, for you know we are entirely alone now you are away. With love from your father and myself, I will say good by for today.
Your Mother.
Mr. Goldwin commenced to read this letter aloud, but before he had finished it his voice choked, and he reached for his handkerchief with which to dry his moist eyes.
The picture it presented of the Vermont father and mother, so deeply interested in their only boy, brought fresh to the banker’s mind his own parental home, and he saw himself once more bidding good by to his father and mother, as he left them and the old farm, a mere boy, to seek a livelihood in the great metropolis.
Presently he overcame this emotion, and turning to youngRandolph, said, sternly:
"This letter, which I hold in my hand, not only proves Mr. Randolph’s truthfulness, but it convicts you of a base falsehood. You deceived me by your artful lying, and now you have the effrontery to stand up before me and before this young man, whom you have so cruelly wronged, and boldly deny everything. You are the most polished young villain I ever knew.
“Young man,” continued the banker, addressing Bob, and without waiting for Mortimer to reply, “what do you know about this matter?”
“I guess I know ’bout everything,” said the young detective, glad of a chance to have his say.
“You remarked that it was lucky that you found out something before it was too late for us here at the bank, I believe?”
“Yes, sir, you are right.”
“Will you please tell us the facts?”
Bob related the conversation he had heard between old Gunwagner and Felix Mortimer, relative to bank robbing.
“So that was your scheme in getting in here, was it? you young villain!” said Mr. Goldwin, angrily addressing Felix Mortimer.
“I refuse to answer the charges made by these confederates. They are telling what has no truth in it, and are deceiving you, as you will learn to your sorrow,” replied Felix, still maintaining a good degree of boldness.
Richard Goldwin, however, was too good a judge of human nature to be further imposed upon by the tricks of young Mortimer.
“But you will be forced to answer to the charges sooner or later, sir,” said the banker. “The court will compel you to do so.”
The court!
These words made young Mortimer wince, and his nerve palpably weakened. He muttered some unintelligible reply—whether a threat or not none present knew.
“How came you to overhear this conversation between the old fence and this fellow?” asked Mr. Goldwin of Bob Hunter.
young randolph and bob hunter confront felix mortimer and charge him with his villainy.
The young detective here related the whole story, telling why he suspected Mortimer, how he saw him at the bank in Herbert’s place, how he shadowed him up Broadway—told ofthe bootblacking scene, in which he got the essential facts from Peter Smartweed and Mortimer; related his manner of gaining admittance to the fence, and told of the trick he played upon the old man and Felix—the trick that enabled him to carry out to success his scheme for liberating Herbert Randolph.
“And you did all of this alone?” asked the banker, with genuine astonishment.
“Yes, sir,” replied Bob, carelessly, as if it didn’t amount to much.
“I cannot realize it,” said Mr. Goldwin, admiringly. “A professional detective could not have done better, and probably would have fallen far short of doing as well.”
“I didn’t think nothin’ of it,” returned Bob. “’Twas easy enough, and ’twas kinder of excitin’, too.”
“And you liked the excitement?”
Bob admitted that he did, but was very modest about his triumph, and was not disposed to look upon it as any great feat now it was all over. But Mr. Goldwin assured him, in most complimentary terms, that great credit was due to him for the skill and bravery he had displayed.
Meanwhile Felix Mortimer had been slyly inching towards a door that was a little to his left; and now that Mr. Goldwin’s attention was centered upon young Bob Hunter, he seized the opportunity, and made a mad plunge for liberty. His movements, however, had been detected by Herbert Randolph, and he no sooner reached the door than the young Vermonter grasped him firmly by the collar, and jerked him back.
Mortimer’s effort to escape prompted Mr. Goldwin to sound the alarm for a policeman. An officer responded promptly, and immediately arrested the young criminal, and took him to the station house, where he was locked into a cell.
“I was never so deceived in a boy in my life,” remarked the banker, with a troubled look, when the officer had gone with his prisoner. “He has a remarkably strong character, and had he taken the right course in life, would have made an able man. It always makes me sad to see a bright boy, just entering upon his career, start in a way that is sure to result in disgrace and ruin.”
“His associates have doubtless had a bad influence over him,” said Herbert, as if trying to soften the boy’s offense.
“It is certainly praiseworthy in you, Mr. Randolph, to speak so kindly of one who caused you so much suffering as that boy did,” returned Mr. Goldwin.
“Well, since his evil purpose has recoiled upon himself, he is now the chief sufferer; and besides, I do not think he wanted to injure me farther than to get me out of his way. And he knew no other plan, I suppose, than to keep me a prisoner.”
“I am glad to see you view the matter so charitably,” said the banker, warmly, for he appreciated highly this glimpse of Herbert’s character.
“But what do you say to old Gunwagner?” put in Bob.
“I think he is a heartless old wretch,” answered young Randolph, with fire in his eyes. “It is he who abused me so cruelly.”
“You say he, too, is locked up now?” asked Mr. Goldwin.
“Yes.”
“Do you think he has any property?”
“I should judge so. In fact, he tried to buy us off when he found we had him cornered.”
“It is possible that you may be able to get damages for false imprisonment,” said the banker, thoughtfully.
“I had not thought of that,” returned Herbert.
“Mind you, I said it was possible only, so do not have too great hopes of such a result.”
“No, I will not, and the damage was not much, unless I lost my situation with you,” replied Herbert, somewhat anxiously.
“No, you have not lost that, for I shall reinstate you at once. You have proved yourself to be the sort of young man I desire in my business.”
“Thank you, sir, for your compliment, and especially for reinstating me. I should be very sorry to lose this position, and I know my father and mother would feel badly, too.”
“Do not worry about that, my boy. Employers are as anxious to get desirable clerks as clerks are eager to be employed. But to return to the matter of false imprisonment, I will state the case to my lawyer, and see what there is in it. Of course it would be no use to fight him if he is worth nothing.”
“He said he had plenty of money—enough to make us all rich,” put in Bob, with some enthusiasm. “It would be a great act to make him come down handsome. I’d like to see it done.”
“Those fellows usually have a lot of money,” said Mr. Goldwin, “and I agree with Bob—I will call you by that name hereafter—that it would be gratifying to recover damages.”
“That’s right, I like to be called Bob—everybody calls me that.”
“Well, Bob, you are a character. I shall take a great interest in your development, for I think you have done the smartest thing, in getting your friend out of old Gunwagner’s clutches, that I ever knew a boy of your age to do.”
Bob’s cheeks became highly colored. He had not been accustomed to praise, and such compliments as these from a rich banker were unwieldy for him.
“Tom Flannery helped me,” said the young detective, generously trying to throw some of the glory upon Tom.
“Tom Flannery! Who is he?”
“He is a fellow what sells papers too. Me and him worked this case up together.”
“What sort of a boy is he—sharp, like yourself, I suppose?”
“Well, he done some good work helpin’ me,” replied Bob, evading the question as to Tom’s keenness.
The fact is that young Flannery was not wonderfully sharp; but Bob liked him for his honest, good natured self, and, therefore, would only speak in praise of him.
The banker drew Bob out, and learned of the fire act that Tom performed so satisfactorily. But his keen sense detected the truth of the matter, and he was satisfied as to where the real merit lay.
“Bob,” said he, “your modesty and your efforts to throw much of the credit on Tom Flannery are certainly becoming to you. I like you for the spirit you show in the matter. But, nevertheless, I recognize in you the chief of the undertaking—the one who planned and carried out the entire scheme. Now, here is a little present for you; I want you to take it and buy you a good suit of clothes, so that you will be as well dressed as Herbert. I believe you room together?”
“Yes, we do,” said Bob. “But I don’t want no present. I can earn some money to buy clothes with.”
“But I want you to take it,” replied Mr. Goldwin. “You have done a great act of kindness to Herbert, and to me as well, for sooner or later we would doubtless have suffered a loss by Felix Mortimer.”
Bob took the crisp new bills reluctantly—four of them, five dollars each—twenty dollars—he had never held so muchmoney in his hands at any one time before, and this was all his own.
He felt bewildered. After a moment’s pause, however, he said, “Mayn’t I give some of this to Tom Flannery?”
“I expected you would say that,” replied the banker, enjoying Bob’s surprise, “so I retained a five dollar bill for Tom. Here it is; give it to him with my regards. He, too, did us a service in aiding you as he did.”
Bob’s joy was now beyond expression. He looked, however, the thankfulness that he could not find words to express.
“You may go now,” said Mr. Goldwin, kindly. “I will keep you in mind, and see what I can do for you. Come and see me within a few days.”
Bob thanked Mr. Goldwin heartily, and left the bank, overflowing with happiness. When the young detective had gone, Mr. Goldwin asked Herbert many questions about him.
“I think he is a promising lad,” said the banker. “I have taken a great liking to him. He has a droll, comical way that is very pleasing.”
TWO YOUNG CAPITALISTS.
“Is that you, Bob Hunter?” said Tom Flannery, his eyes opened wide with surprise.
“I should think it is,” laughed the young detective.
“Say, Bob, where did you get ’em?” continued Tom, somewhat in doubt of his own senses.
“Why, I bought ’em, of course. How does anybody get new clothes?”
“They are slick, though, ain’t they, Bob?” said young Flannery, admiringly, “and they fit stunnin’, too. You must er struck a snap somewhere, Bob.”
“I should think I did,” replied the latter; “the best snap any er the boys ever struck.”
“Bob, you was always lucky. I wish I was as lucky as what you are. I never strike no snaps, Bob.”
“Don’t you?” said young Hunter, meditatively.
“No, they don’t never come my way,” responded Tom, dolefully.
Bob turned the lapels of his coat back and threw out his chest ponderously.
“Tom,” said he, with the air of a Wall Street banker, “here’s a five for you,” taking a new, crisp bill from his vest pocket.
“For me, Bob!” exclaimed Tom, incredulously.
“Why, yes, of course it’s for you. Why not?”
“I don’t understand it, Bob,” said young Flannery, completely upset.
“Why, it’s one of them snaps. You said you never had any luck like me, so I thought I’d just give you some.”
“Bob, you’re a dandy. I never see any feller do things the way you do.”
“Well, I do try to throw a little style into ’em, when it’s handy to do it.”
“I should think you do.”
“You see, Tom, it don’t cost no more to do things as they ought to be. I believe in doing ’em right, that’s what I say.”