Was Hamington's explanation the correct one?
"By Jove! I believe that's the straight of it!" exclaimed Hardwick.
"So do I," said Mr. Allen. "It is the only way to account for the marks on the window-frame and the sash."
Mr. Sumner said nothing. Indeed, to tell the truth, his loss had set his mind in a whirl.
Parker turned to Hal.
"Did you open the office this morning?" he asked.
"Yes, sir."
"You opened the window when you cleaned up?"
"Yes."
"Was it locked?"
Hal tried to think.
"I believe it was."
"You are not sure?"
"No, sir."
"He ought to be," broke in Mr. Allen. "I would know, if I was in his place."
"See, if you cannot think, Hal," said Mr. Sumner.
"If anything, I think the window was locked," said the youth, candidly.
"You do?" said Parker.
"Yes, for I believe I had some trouble to unfasten it."
The two detectives looked at each other.
"If that is so, it alters the case," said Hamington. "But I believe the boy is mistaken."
"So do I," added Hardwick, promptly.
Parker opened the window again, and leaping out, made his way to the alley. Hamington went after him. Then several customers came in, and Mr. Allen and Hardwick went forward to wait upon them.
It was a quarter of an hour before the detectives came back, and then they had very little to say, excepting that they would report the particulars at headquarters and endeavor to run down the criminal.
Mr. Sumner was broken down by his loss. He sat in his private office nearly all of the remainder of the day, his head resting in his hands. Mr. Allen went off on business, and Hardwick stuck to his books as if his life depended on it.
Hal resumed his duties with a heavy weight on his heart. For some reason he had expected to be discharged, but nothing was said about his leaving.
Hardwick scowled at the youth every time their eyes met, and kept piling the work upon Hal. The book-keeper was nervous, and the youth did not fail to notice this, and it set him to thinking.
If only he had listened more attentively to what had been said on the ferry-boat that night! Hal was sure if he had done this he would have known if Hardwick and Allen were guilty or not.
Then Hal began to speculate on the foot-marks on the window-sill. If the thief had entered the office that way, why were not some of the same marks visible on the carpet in front of the safe?
When Hardwick went out to lunch, Hal watched him from the office window. At the corner he saw the book-keeper joined by Dick Ferris, and the two seemed to be in earnest conversation as they walked along.
When Hardwick came back Hal was given a half hour. The boy put on his hat and coat and went out. He did not feel like eating, and he walked up to the corner and around to the back street, intending to pay a visit to the alley through which the robber was supposed to have escaped.
Just as he was about to turn into the narrow place, now piled high with snow, somebody caught him by the shoulder. Turning, he found himself confronted by Dick Ferris.
"Hullo, there!" said the tall boy.
"How are you?" returned Hal coldly.
"I hear you've got my place," went on Ferris.
"What if I have?" asked Hal, abruptly.
"I thought you were hanging around trying to do me out of it."
"I didn't try to do you out of it. Mr. Sumner asked me to call at his office and I went. Then he offered me the place and I took it."
"Did he know you?"
"May I ask what business that is of yours?"
"Shut up, you little street tramp, you!" retorted Ferris. "Do you know what I've a good mind to do?"
"I must admit I do not."
"Give you a mighty good thrashing."
"Two can play at that game," replied Hal, with a nervous little laugh.
"What, do you mean to say you can stand up against me?" demanded Ferris. "Maybe you don't know I am an athlete."
"And perhaps you are not aware that I am perfectly able to take care of myself," returned Hal.
"Take that!" cried Ferris.
He hauled off and aimed a wicked blow at the youth's nose. Had it struck Hal it would have injured him considerably.
But the youth dodged; and the next instant Dick Ferris received a crack fairly between the eyes that made him see stars, and caused him to stagger up against the side of a building.
"What—what——" he gasped.
"That for attacking me," replied Hal. "Don't you try any such game again."
"I'll fix you!" roared Ferris. He was boiling with rage. "You miserable street cur!"
He sprang at Hal and caught him by both arms, intending to trip the youth up.
But Hal stood his ground, and by a sudden twist freed himself.
"Let me alone, Ferris," he commanded.
"Oh, of course I will!" replied the tall boy, sarcastically.
"If you don't, you'll regret it."
"Will I? Take that, and that!"
Ferris struck out twice. Hal parried the first blow, but the second just grazed his lip, causing that member to bleed slightly.
"Told you I'd fix you!" roared Ferris.
He had hardly spoken the words before Hal pulled himself together and went at him. The youth's arms shot out right and left, and before he was aware of what was taking place, Ferris received a stinging blow on the forehead, and then came one on the chin that sent him rolling over in the snow.
"Dat's right, give it ter him!" shouted a newsboy who stood by, grinning from ear to ear. "Do him up in one round!"
Ferris got upon his feet slowly. His head felt dizzy from the shock he had received.
"Want any more?" demanded Hal, facing him with clenched fists.
"Cheese it! here comes der cops!" put in the newsboy.
Hal looked up, and saw a policeman bearing toward the spot. Ferris also gave a glance, and he muttered something under his breath.
"What did you say?" demanded Hal.
"I'll settle with you another time," replied Ferris.
And picking up his hat, which had landed in a near-by drift, he placed it on his head, and sneaked down the street at a rapid gait.
In a minute the policeman arrived at the spot.
"What is the trouble here?" he demanded.
"A fellow attacked me," replied Hal.
"I see your lip's cut. Why did he do it?"
"I got a job he used to have, and he's angry over it."
"Oh!" The policeman tossed his head. "Did you hit back?"
"I defended myself," replied Hal, briefly.
He was half afraid he might be called on to make some sort of a charge, a thing he did not wish to do now the encounter was over.
"He did der feller fer keeps!" put in the newsboy.
"Go on with you!" cried the policeman, and the newsboy ran off, while Hal started on his way back to the office.
"What's the matter with your lip?" inquired Hardwick, as the youth entered.
"I cut it," replied Hal.
The book-keeper turned and smiled to himself.
"I guess Ferris kept his word," he muttered. "He said he was going to fix the boy. I wish he had killed the tramp."
That afternoon dragged heavily, but at last it was time to close up. Mr. Sumner hardly spoke to either when they bade him good-evening.
Hardwick walked up Wall Street, and then turned into Nassau, instead of continuing to Broadway.
Suddenly an idea entered Hal's head to follow Hardwick.
Despite all the evidence pointing in other directions, the youth thought Hardwick either guilty of the robbery or else that the book-keeper knew much concerning it.
Hardwick continued up Nassau Street until he reached Park Row.
Hal kept out of sight behind the man, and presently Hardwick continued up Park Row until he came to one of the side streets just beyond the entrance to the Brooklyn Bridge.
He turned into this street, piled high on either side with dirty snow, and then entered one of the worst thoroughfares in New York City.
By this time it was quite dark, and Hal had to keep close, for fear of losing sight of his man. He was now thoroughly interested, for he knew Hardwick boarded somewhere uptown, and it must be some special business that would bring the book-keeper to this part of the city on such a disagreeable evening.
At length Hardwick paused and glanced behind him. As soon as he saw the movement the boy stepped behind a bill-board out of sight.
Presently Hardwick continued on his way, walking faster than ever. The youth increased his speed.
"Hi! look sharp there!"
Hal was just about to cross a street when he almost ran into a heavy truck. He stepped back, and allowed the truck to pass. When he reached the opposite curb Hardwick had disappeared.
"He must have gone on straight ahead," thought the youth. "I will soon catch up to him again."
But though he continued onward for more than a block, he saw nothing of the book-keeper.
He looked up and down the side streets, and tried to peep into the curtained windows of several saloons that were close at hand.
"He must have gone in somewhere, that's certain," said Hal to himself. "I wonder if he discovered that I was following him?"
This last thought disturbed the youth not a little. His experience with Hardwick in the office had convinced him that the book-keeper was an evil man when aroused.
Slowly he retraced his steps, not certain if he could find his way back to Park Row, a spot he had got to know fairly well since his coming to the metropolis.
He was just passing a place where a new building was in the course of construction when a peculiar noise to one side of him attracted his attention. By instinct he jumped toward the gutter. The next instant a mass of bricks came tumbling down. One struck him on the head, and this knocked him insensible.
When Hal came to his senses he found himself in the arms of a boy slightly taller than himself, who was doing all in his power to restore consciousness by the application of snow to Hal's forehead.
"What—what——" he began.
"Good! yer come around at last, have yer?" cried the boy. "Blessed if I didn't think yer was a goner."
Hal put his hand up to his head.
"Where am I?" he asked, faintly.
"Yer all right; don't worry," replied the tall boy. "Don't yer remember me?"
Hal pulled himself together, and looked at the speaker.
"Jack McCabe!" he cried.
"Yer struck it fust clip. Say, wot was der matter wid yer? Yer couldn't have been froze, coz it wasn't cold enough."
"I was struck on the head."
"Gee crickety! Who struck yer?"
"I—I—nobody, I think. It was some bricks from that building."
"Oh, dat's it. How do yer feel now?"
"Awfully light-headed," responded Hal, telling the exact truth.
"Kin yer walk about a block? I only live jest around dat corner."
Hal started at these words.
"You do?"
"Yes."
"Tell me, is your father janitor of a building down in Wall Street?"
"O' course not. Didn't I tell yer we lived here?"
Hal looked relieved.
"What has that got to do with it?" he asked, curiously.
"Why, dem janitors all lives in der buildin's da takes care of," explained Jack.
"The reason I ask is because there is a Daniel McCabe janitor of the building I work in."
"I t'ink dat's me uncle. Better now?"
Hal took a deep breath and straightened up.
"Yes, a good deal better."
"Yer got a lump on yer forehead as big as an egg."
"It feels twice that size to me," laughed Hal. "Jack, you have done me a good turn I won't forget in a hurry."
The street boy blushed.
"Ah! go on, dat wasn't nuthin'," he replied. "I kinder like you, tell der truth."
"And I like you, Jack," replied Hal, giving his hand a tight squeeze.
"Did yer git dat job?"
"Yes."
"How much?"
"What do you mean?"
"Wot do da pay yer!"
"Seven dollars a week."
Jack McCabe's eyes opened like saucers.
"Yer foolin'."
"It's true, Jack."
"Gee crickety! but yer struck a snap. Say, if dere's enny more o' dem jobs layin' around put in a word fer me, will yer."
"I certainly shall," replied Hal.
"I only git t'ree dollars where I am, an' have ter work like a horse. I've jest been home ter grub, an' now I've got ter go back an' work till nine o'clock."
"Then don't let me keep you," returned Hal, "or you may be late."
"I've got ten minutes yet."
"By the way, how long were you with me before I came to?"
"About ten minutes. I dragged yer inter der buildin', an' I was jest gittin' ready ter call der cop an' have yer tuk to der hospital when yer give a gulp an' opened yer eyes."
"While you were sitting here did you notice anybody leave the building?"
Jack scratched his head.
"I t'ink I did."
"What kind of a person was it?"
"A man."
"Heavy sort of a chap?"
"I t'ink he was. I didn't pay much attention ter him on account o' havin' you on my hands."
"Where did the man come from?"
"Der back o' der building."
"You didn't notice which way he went?"
"Up toward der East River."
"That way?"
"Yes."
"Thank you. Don't let me keep you any longer. Maybe I'll be up to see you soon."
"Glad ter have yer, 'specially if ye git dat seven dollar job fer me."
And with a broad laugh Jack McCabe hurried on.
Hal turned into the building, and walked toward the rear. A ladder stood lashed to the back wall. The youth hesitated, and then mounted to the floor above.
A near-by electric light cast its rays full into the open front. Over the beams were placed a number of loose boards, and on these the snow, which had been swept in by the wind, lay to the depth of several inches.
Taking care that he should not slip through an opening, Hal examined the surface of the snow with great care.
It was not long before he came to a number of foot-prints leading to a pile of bricks close to the front.
The foot-prints was fresh, and looked as if they had been made by a man's boot.
The last of them were at a spot that commanded a good view of the sidewalk below. Hal looked down, and then shuddered.
Was it possible that Hardwick had pushed those bricks down upon him?
"It looked so," murmured Hal to himself. "I must be more cautious in the future. He must have seen me when I started to hide behind the bill-board."
Hal descended the ladder, and was soon upon the street once more.
He thought over the situation, and then started for his boarding-house, satisfied that it would do no good to search farther for the book-keeper that night.
As has been mentioned, the boarding-house was up in Tenth Street. Hal soon walked the distance, and, getting out his night-key, he let himself in.
He was about to ascend to his room, and wash up a bit before going to supper, when the sounds of voices broke upon his ear, coming from the parlor.
"And he has your place, Dick?" he heard Mrs. Ricket, the boarding mistress say.
"Yes, he has, Aunt Amanda," returned the voice of Dick Ferris.
"It's too bad."
"How did you come to allow the tramp in the house?"
"He paid in advance, Dick, and he appeared to be a very nice young fellow."
"Nice!"
"Yes. What is wrong about him?"
"He was brought up in a poor-house."
"Who said so?"
"Never mind, I know it for a fact."
"Well, even that wouldn't make him a bad boy."
"But you don't want any tramps around here, do you?"
"He isn't a tramp so long as he works and pays his board."
"You say he paid in advance?"
"Yes, for one week. He said he would pay two, if I wished it."
"Then you can make sure there is something wrong about him. Better look out for your silverware."
Mrs. Ricket laughed.
"A robber would never make much out of what little I possess, Dick," she replied.
"Still, you wouldn't want to lose it."
"I'll trust Carson."
"Well, have your own way. He's a tramp, and I don't want anything to do with him."
"What makes you so down on him?"
"Didn't I tell you he took my place away from me?"
"How could he do that? I am sure Mr. Sumner would have kept you at work, if you had done right."
"Didn't I do right?" blustered Dick Ferris.
"Hardly."
"What was wrong?"
"You wouldn't get up the day before yesterday, although I called you twice."
"Well, I was to a sparring match the night before, and I was tired out."
"You should have stayed at home, Dick."
"Huh! you don't want a fellow to have any fun!" growled the boy.
"Oh, yes I do, but not the kind that is going to lose you your place. What do you intend to do, now?"
"Oh, I'll find something else to do," replied Ferris, in a careless fashion.
"I cannot support you in idleness, even if you are my dead sister's son," went on Mrs. Ricket. "You haven't paid me any board now in eight weeks."
"Only six, Aunt Amanda."
"No, it is eight. I have it on my account book. I don't see why you let it run, it is so little, only three dollars a week. That Carson pays me five, and he has not so good a room."
"There goes that Carson again," stormed Dick Ferris. "I don't want to hear a word more. He's a tramp and a thief and you'll be sorry you took him in before a great while."
With this speech on his lips, Dick Ferris walked across the parlor, threw open the door—and confronted Hal.
Dick Ferris started back on catching sight of Hal, who stood on the bottom step of the stairs.
"You!"
"Yes, Dick Ferris," returned Hal, coolly. "And let me say that I overheard your conversation with Mrs. Ricket, your aunt."
Ferris changed color.
"Been playing the spy, eh?" he sneered.
"No; I just came in and overheard you speaking about me, and stopped to learn what you would have to say."
"It's the same thing——"
"I hope you will excuse me, Mr. Carson," broke in Mrs. Ricket, who was blushing furiously. "I—I don't approve of what Dick said."
"I know you do not, Mrs. Ricket. If I thought you did I would pack up and leave at once."
"It would be a good job done," put in Ferris.
"Stop, Dick. I will not have you insult one of my boarders," cried the woman, sharply.
"All right, have your own way," returned Ferris, insolently. "If you want to take in any tramp that comes along, why, go ahead and do it."
He had on his hat and coat, and now he started for the door.
Hal caught him by the arm.
"Stop!" he cried. "I am not a tramp, and I won't be called one by you or anybody else!"
"Really?"
"Yes, really."
"What are you going to do about it?"
"If you insist in indulging in such language in the future I will give you even a worse whipping than I gave you this noon."
"What, did you fight?" cried Mrs. Ricket.
"He attacked me and I defended myself," replied Hal. "He is down on me for taking the situation from which he was discharged."
"I know that."
"If I had known he was boarding here I would not have applied to you——"
"You bet he wouldn't," put in Ferris.
"Not that I am afraid of your nephew," went on Hal. "But I do not wish to cause any trouble."
"You have caused no trouble, Mr. Carson," returned Mrs. Ricket.
"That's what I call cool," exclaimed her nephew.
"It is Dick is the cause of it all. You know you are, and you ought to be ashamed of yourself," she added, turning to the boy.
"That's right, go right against me; you always do," howled Dick Ferris, "There ain't no use for me to stay here any longer."
And he marched out of the front door, and down the street to his favorite hanging-out place, the corner pool-room.
Mrs. Ricket was profuse in her apologies to Hal after Ferris had gone.
"He's a good enough boy," she said. "But he has got into bad company, and I can't do anything with him."
"Aren't his parents living?" asked Hal.
"Only his father, and he is a sea captain and ain't home more than three or four times a year. I wish he would take Dick along with him some time, it might do him good."
"So it might," replied Hal. "By the way, Mrs. Ricket, do you know a man by the name of Hardwick?"
"The book-keeper for the firm where Dick used to work?"
"Yes."
"I saw him once, when he was here to see Dick."
"Oh, did he come here?"
"Yes, about a week ago."
"He came to see your nephew, did he?"
"Yes. Dick took him up to his room, and the gentleman stayed about an hour or more."
"Do you know where he lives?"
"On East Twenty-third Street, near Third Avenue."
"The Third Avenue elevated runs close to it, then?"
"Yes. Why do you want to know?"
"I may have to go up on business sometime. I didn't care to ask your nephew for the directions."
"I see."
Mrs. Ricket passed to the rear of the hall, and Hal continued on his to his room.
"So the two are friends," he said to himself, as he was washing himself and combing his hair. "And both of them are my enemies. This is getting interesting, to say the least." He paused for a second. "I have half a mind to do it. It won't do any harm. I will."
He hurried down to supper, which was being served in the basement, and as soon as it was over, donned his coat and cap once more and made his way over to Third Avenue.
An elevated train was just entering the station, and, paying his nickel, he dropped his ticket in the box, and rushed aboard.
The Fourteenth and Eighteenth Street stations were soon passed. Then came Twenty-third Street, and here Hal alighted.
It had begun to snow again, and the youth was compelled to pull his coat-collar well up around his ears, and his cap far down over his eyes, to protect himself from the elements.
He walked down East Twenty-third Street slowly, scanning the buildings closely as he passed. It was now about half-past eight o'clock, and he knew it would probably be some time before Hardwick would make his appearance.
Having walked several blocks, Hal retraced his steps, and then took up a position in a sheltering door-way.
He had hardly done so before a well-known form passed by.
"Dick Ferris!" cried Hal to himself. "What can he be doing here?"
There could be but one answer to that question. Ferris must have come to see Hardwick.
He kept his eye on the tall boy, and as soon as Ferris was a short distance ahead Hal left the door-way and followed him.
Ferris walked along for the space of two blocks. Then he came to an elegant brown-stone front mansion, the parlor of which was brilliantly illuminated.
Ascending the steps, he rang the bell, and the door was opened almost immediately.
Hal, who stood near the area-way below, heard him ask for Hardwick.
"Yes, sir, he just came in."
"May I see him?"
"Yes, sir. Please step into the parlor."
Ferris stepped inside, and the door was immediately closed.
Hal drew a deep breath. If only he could find out Ferris' mission. He felt certain the meeting between the book-keeper and the former office-boy was to be an important one.
He looked at the windows. Every one of them were tightly closed.
"Too bad it isn't summer time," muttered Hal to himself.
On either side of the mansion were others, so there was no way to get to the rear, excepting through the door below, and this was tightly barred.
"I would like to know what a detective would do in a case of this kind," thought Hal. "I suppose he would find some way to effect an entrance."
He was just about to give up trying to form some plan, when the door opened and Hardwick and Ferris came out. Hal crouched near the foot of the steps, and the pair passed within three feet of him.
"It isn't safe to talk over private matters in a house like that," remarked Hardwick. "I know a place where we will be far more at liberty to discuss the thing I have in mind."
"Where is it?" asked Ferris.
"A private club-room just up the avenue."
"That will just suit me," replied Ferris.
The two passed on. Hal raised himself from his cramped position, and made after them.
Once around the corner of Sixth Avenue, Hardwick led the way into an open hall-way, lit up with a single gas-jet. The pair commenced to ascend the stairs, which had several sharp turns. Hal was not far behind.
"I'll find out what they are up to, if I die for it," he said, and clenched his hands.
Several sentences were spoken which the youth did not catch, and then came a cry from Hardwick.
"What is that you say?" he demanded. "You saw this Carson just before you left your aunt's house?"
"Yes."
"Impossible!"
"Why should it be!" asked Ferris.
Hardwick did not reply.
"I was right," thought Hal, with a shudder. "He threw those bricks on me, and thought I was either dead or next door to it. He is a thorough villain, and no mistake."
"Why shouldn't I see Carson at the house?" went on Ferris.
"Why—I thought he wasn't going home till late," stammered Hardwick.
"Did he say so?"
"I believe he said something about it. I didn't pay much attention." Hardwick was beginning to recover from his shock. "So you saw him?"
"Yes."
"You two don't get along very well, do you?"
"I'd like to thrash him," growled Ferris.
"Why?"
Hal did not hear the reply. The two passed into a room on the third floor, and the door was closed behind them.
For an instant the youth hesitated. Then he mounted to the door and applied his eye to the key-hole.
There was a brilliant light inside, but no one appeared to be present.
Having satisfied himself on this point, Hal tried the knob of the door.
It turned, and he pushed the door open cautiously. He knew he was treading on dangerous ground and was running a great risk. Yet a strange courage seemed to have come over him, and he was not one bit nervous.
Once inside the room, he saw that it was a club apartment. Papers were scattered over the table, and cards and other games rested on a side stand.
To the left was another door, having a curtain strung over it.
From beyond the curtain came the voices of Hardwick and Ferris, and Hal knew they had seated themselves and were taking it easy.
Approaching the outer door he locked it.
"Now I cannot be surprised in that direction," he thought. "And if Hardwick or Ferris try to leave I can hide in the closet."
Having made these preparations against being discovered, Hal approached the curtain to listen to whatever might be said.
"You say you wish you could fix Carson?" he heard Hardwick say.
"I do," returned Ferris. "I hate him, and I would do almost anything to get square."
"Then I'll tell you of a little plan that you can work, Dick. I don't like the fellow myself, and it will delight me to see you get the best of him."
"How does the beggar do the office work?"
"I must say first class."
"Humph! It didn't suit me, Hardwick. If there hadn't been other money——"
"Hush!" cried the book-keeper, in alarm. "That matter must remain a secret, never to be mentioned."
Hal Carson was sure that he had just missed a most important statement.
"I wish Ferris had finished what he intended to say," he thought.
He waited breathlessly for the two to go on.
"What makes you so scared?" asked Ferris. "Can anybody hear us here?"
"I think not. Still we want to be careful."
"Yes, but——"
"Not another word on that point, Dick." Hardwick's voice grew stern. "I am a man, while you are a boy, and I know what is best for both of us."
"Well, have your own way."
"I think it will be a wise plan for you to get Carson out of the way. He is altogether too smart a fellow to have around," continued the book-keeper.
"I don't think he looks very smart," sneered Ferris, who could not stand hearing Hal praised.
"He's smarter than you or most people think. That yarn about his being brought up in the poor-house may be true, but I have my doubts."
"Why?" asked Ferris, in high curiosity.
"I can't explain now." There was a brief pause. "Here, take a cigar. Those nasty cigarettes make me sick."
There was the striking of matches, and then another pause.
"Are you going to continue as book-keeper when Allen leaves?" asked Ferris.
"Certainly."
"I thought you were to go with Allen in his new venture."
"I will—later on."
"Has he made any definite plans yet?"
"No."
"The reason I asked is because I want you to put in a word for me."
Hardwick laughed.
"Dick, you are getting to be a pretty big boy."
"Didn't I do what you wished of me?" demanded Ferris.
"I must say you did."
"Then you ought to be willing——"
"All right, it shall be as you say."
At this instant came a heavy hand on the door-knob outside.
"Who's that?" cried Ferris.
"Must be Churchley or Wister," replied Hardwick.
As the door was locked, the person outside began to knock.
"I must have locked the door," added the book-keeper. "Wait till I open it."
As soon as the noise outside reached his ears, Hal made for the closet, which stood in one corner of the room. He found the door unlocked, and the interior empty, save for a broom and a duster and several similar things.
He entered the closet, transferring the key to the inside as he did so, and locked the door behind him.
A second later Hardwick entered from the inner room, and opened the door leading to the hall.
"Hullo, Churchley!" Hal heard him exclaim.
"How are you, Hardwick?" returned the new-comer. "Locked me out, did you?"
"I must have turned the key without thinking," replied the book-keeper.
"All alone?"
"No, there is a young fellow with me."
"Who?"
"Ferris."
"Don't know him."
"I just brought him around to show him the place, and have a quiet smoke. He is in the other room."
"Then don't let me disturb you," replied Churchley. "I just want to look over the news-papers and find out how that prize-fight over in Hoboken came off."
Hal heard the man drop into a seat by the table, and after a few more words concerning the prize-fight Churchley had mentioned, Hardwick rejoined Ferris in the other apartment.
"Who is it?" asked Ferris.
"A man named Churchley," replied Hardwick, in a low tone, so that he might not be overheard.
"One of the club members?"
"Yes."
"Will he overhear us?"
"I guess not. He is reading about the prize-fight, and when Churchley gets on to anything of that kind he gets completely absorbed."
"Then we can go on with our talk?"
"Yes, but not too loud."
"I want to know about this plan against Carson," said Ferris, in a whisper.
"Are you willing to go in against him?"
"Didn't I say I was?"
"But I mean seriously?"
Ferris changed color.
"Of course I don't want to kill him," he faltered.
"I understand. But you are willing to get him into serious trouble."
"I am."
"Then listen to me. Can you get into his room at your aunt's house?"
"I think I can."
"I mean without being seen."
"I have the whole run of the place."
"Then supposing somethings belonging to the others were found in Carson's trunk——"
"He has no trunk," interrupted Ferris.
"So much the better, for you can merely hide the stuff in among his things."
"Do you mean for me to take them?"
"Some of them."
"Some of them?" questioned Ferris.
"Yes, those from your aunt's boarders. At the same time I will give you several articles belonging to the office that you can place with the others. Is there any one of the boarders you know well?"
"I know Saunders pretty well."
"Then let Saunders lose most of the stuff, and put a flea in his ear to the effect that you think Carson is the guilty party. This will cause the fellow's room to be searched and the stuff will be found. You must be on hand to identify the office stuff; see?"
"I do."
"Carson will be arrested, and you will have your revenge."
"That's a boss plan!" exclaimed Ferris. "When will you furnish me with stuff from the office?"
"To-morrow noon, if you will meet me at the corner of Wall and Nassau."
"I'll be on hand. It made me sick the way my aunt stuck up for Carson. Of course, I wouldn't go into the thing, only I know the tramp's a bad egg," returned Ferris, trying to excuse his willingness to enter into such an outrageous plot.
"Of course he is a bad egg, and it is our duty to get him out of the way," replied Hardwick. "You will be on hand sure to-morrow?"
"Yes."
"And when will you put the things in his room?"
"Sometime during the afternoon. That will bring matters to a head as soon as Saunders and the others get home."
"You must expose Carson while he is in his room, if possible."
"Oh, he'll be home with the rest."
"Then that's all right. Of course, there is no necessity to caution you to be careful."
"Wasn't I careful before?"
"Hush!"
"Then don't talk that way. Say, do you know these cigars are mighty strong?"
Hardwick laughed.
"That's because you are not used to them, Dick. Now, I generally smoke them twice as strong."
Just at this instant, the two heard Churchley jump to his feet.
"Who's there?" he demanded.
"What's the matter with Churchley?" said Hardwick.
"He's talking to somebody," replied Ferris.
"Hullo! the door's locked," they heard Churchley continue.
"What's up, Churchley?" called out Hardwick, walking toward the other room.
"There is somebody in this closet," was the startling reply. "I heard a noise half a dozen times."
When Hal Carson locked himself into the closet of the club-room, he realized that he was in a perilous position.
Supposing somebody undertook to open the door? They might suppose it very strange to find the door locked, and think it necessary to open it, in which case he would be discovered in short order.
He remained perfectly quiet for a long while and heard Churchley admitted, and heard the man seat himself at the center table, and rustle the paper he was perusing.
Of the conversation carried on by Ferris and Hardwick, he heard nothing further, and he was, consequently, totally in the dark concerning the nefarious plot that had been formed to get him into serious trouble.
Ten minutes passed, and the youth began to wonder how long he would have to remain a self-made prisoner.
Then all became quiet in the room beyond, and he wondered if Churchley had not joined the two in the adjoining apartment.
He peered through the key-hole, but could see nothing but a portion of the wall opposite.
Growing bolder, he turned the key in the lock, and cautiously opened the door for the space of several inches. Looking out, he saw that Churchley still sat at the table, which was but a few feet away.
At that instant the man moved and gave a deep breath. Hal thought he intended to look around, and hastily closed the door once more.
The youth's movement was so quick that the door made a sharp sound as the catch clicked. This was followed by the sound made by the key in the lock as Hal once more imprisoned himself.
Hal almost held his breath as he heard Churchley jump up.
"Who's there?" called the man.
Hal made no reply.
Then Churchley came and tried the door.
"Hullo! the door's locked!"
At that moment Hardwick entered, followed by Ferris.
"Somebody in the closet?" cried Hardwick.
"There seems to be."
"Open the door."
"I can't. It's locked."
"Who is in there?" called the book-keeper.
Of course, Hal did not answer.
"Perhaps it was a rat," suggested Ferris.
"Might have been," grumbled Churchley. "I know there are plenty of them in the building, because I once ran across one in the hall-way."
"Where is the key?" asked Hardwick. "We'll soon find out."
"I don't know."
"It ought to be in the lock."
"Perhaps Jackson carted it off. He's an odd sort of a coon."
Hardwick looked around on the mantel and in several other places.
"It's gone."
He came over and shook the door.
"See if the key is on the inside of the lock," suggested Ferris.
At these words Hal put down his hand and felt to make sure that the key was turned to one side.
"I can't see anything," said Hardwick, after an examination.
"Then Jackson must have put it in his pocket," said Churchley.
"Perhaps it was nothing but a rat after all," said Ferris.
"I have half a mind to run up and ask Jackson," said Hardwick. "He lives right on the floor above."
"Oh, don't bother!" returned Churchley. "If it's a rat you may be sure he has gone back to his hole long ago."
A little more conversation followed, to which Hal listened intently, and then the youth heard Hardwick and Ferris go out.
Churchley continued to read the papers, and during that time the youth hardly dared to move for fear the man might re-commence his investigation.
But at the end of the hour Churchley gave a yawn and arose. Then two more men entered the room, and the trio adjourned to the other apartment.
Making sure that the coast was clear this time, Hal unlocked the door and let himself out. Then he locked the door again, and threw the key under the table.
"That will tend to stop suspicion," he reasoned. "And I must be sharp in dealing with these rascals."
He tiptoed his way to the door leading to the hall-way, and was soon outside.
Hardwick and Ferris had gone long before, and below all looked deserted. It was still snowing heavily, and Hal made up his mind that the best thing he could do would be to return to his boarding-house.
He was soon on the elevated train and riding downtown.
Happening to glance toward the other end of the car in which he was seated, he saw Dick Ferris sitting in the corner, apparently absorbed in thought.
"I'm glad I spotted him," thought Hal. "I must take care he does not see me."
East Tenth Street was soon reached. In making for the house Hal crossed over the street, and ran ahead. By this means he managed to get inside and up to his room before Dick Ferris put his key in the door.
To tell the truth, Hal did not sleep much that night. His mind seemed to be in a whirl. What was the plot Hardwick and Dick Ferris had hatched out against him?
He was up early on the following morning. At the breakfast table he had a pleasant word with Saunders, who was a clerk in a dry-goods store, and a pretty good sort of a fellow. Ferris did not appear, but this was not strange, as he had not been down early since his discharge from Sumner, Allen & Co.'s establishment.
Hal was the first to appear at the office in Wall Street. He opened up as usual, and after cleaning and dusting, began copying from the point at which he had left off on the previous day.
At quarter past nine Hardwick hurried in. The book-keeper's face was very red, but whether from the cold or from drink it was hard to determine.
Mr. Allen soon followed Hardwick, and the two entered into a low and earnest conversation in the rear. Hal did not dare to approach them, but he strained his ears to their utmost, and caught the words "he must be watched," and "the detectives will learn nothing," and these set him to thinking deeply.
Presently Mr. Sumner arrived. The elderly broker's face showed deep lines of care and anxiety. He had been up to the police headquarters to see if the detectives could give him any words of encouragement, but he had been disappointed.
"We shall have every one about your establishment watched, Mr. Sumner," the superintendent had said. "And I would advise you to go on with business as if nothing had happened."
And to this the elderly broker had agreed.
Hal watched Hardwick narrowly, and the book-keeper showed plainly that he did not appreciate the attention. Once he put his hand on Hal's arm and glared at him.
"What are you looking at me for?" he demanded, in a low tone, so that Mr. Sumner might not hear.
"Was I looking at you?" asked Hal, innocently.
"Yes, you were, and I don't like it."
Hal bowed, and turned away. Nevertheless, he still kept watch on the sly.
Presently, just before the time that Hardwick usually went out for lunch, he saw something which he thought rather odd, although of no great importance.
On a small shelf over one of the desks rested two new inkstands and several boxes of pens. Going to the desk, Hardwick pretended to be busy examining some papers. While thus engaged, Hal saw the book-keeper transfer the inkstands and the boxes of pens to his overcoat pocket.
"Now, what is he up to?" thought the youth.
Having transferred the articles to his clothes, Hardwick put down the papers and walked to where Mr. Sumner sat, busily engaged over his correspondence.
"Shall I go to lunch now, Mr. Sumner?" he asked.
The elderly broker glanced at the clock.
"Yes."
Hardwick at once went out, and presently Mr. Allen followed. Mr. Sumner continued to write for a minute, and then called Hal.
"You may mail these letters, and then get your lunch also," he said.
"Yes, sir," replied the youth.
Then he hesitated as he took up the letters.
"Well, what is it, Hal?" asked the broker.
"Nothing much, Mr. Sumner. I wished to ask you about those inkstands and the pens that were on the shelf over there."
"What of them? You may use whatever you find necessary."
"It isn't that, sir. I just saw Mr. Hardwick slip the things into his pocket."
"Indeed!" Mr. Sumner looked surprised. "Did he say what he intended to do with them?"
"No, sir."
"I will ask him when he comes in."
Hal hesitated.
"I wish you would not, Mr. Sumner," he said.
The elderly broker looked surprised.
"Why not?"
"Because I think Mr. Hardwick is hatching up some plot against me, and I wish to find out what it is."
"A plot?"
"Yes, sir. He is on friendly terms with Dick Ferris, your former office-boy, and both of them hate me."
"This is certainly news. I knew Hardwick did not like you because you suspected him, but I thought that had passed over."
"No, sir. He is down on me worse than ever, and I feel certain he is up to something to get me into trouble."
"And you think the inkstands and pens have something to do with the matter?"
"Yes, sir. Perhaps he'll say I stole them."
"I can't think Hardwick so bad," mused Mr. Sumner. "Why, if he would do that, he would steal the tin box."
Hal said nothing to this. He preferred to discover more than he had before making any revelation.
"You saw them this morning, didn't you?" went on the youth.
"Yes, I got a pen only ten minutes ago."
"Then you know I didn't take them."
"Yes."
"And you will keep silent—that is, for the present?"
"If you wish it, Hal."
And Mr. Sumner turned away and heaved a sigh. It is terrible to have around you somebody you cannot trust.
Five minutes later Hal went out to lunch—a light affair, as the youth had spent ten cents more than intended in following Hardwick the previous evening, and he knew he must be sparing of his capital.
He was just about returning to the office, when, chancing to glance up the street, he saw Hardwick and Ferris just separating at the corner.
He entered the office, and a minute later Hardwick followed. Neither spoke, and but little was said all the afternoon, excepting such as pertained to the business on hand.
Although his thoughts were busy on other matters, Hal paid strict attention to his work, and Mr. Sumner was well pleased with all the youth did.
"A good, manly fellow," he muttered to himself. "He could never have had anything to do with the robbery of the bonds. I would rather suspect my own son were he still alive. But poor Howard is gone."
Sudden tears sprang into the broker's eyes, which he as suddenly brushed away, afraid that some customer might drop in and see his weakness.
Hal did not leave the office until after four o'clock, there being a number of things to be written up before he could go. Hardwick had gone an hour before, and Hal did not know in what direction.
There being nothing else to do, Hal proceeded leisurely up to his boarding-house, never dreaming of the surprise in store for him. The streets were filled with snow, and he enjoyed the jingle of the sleigh-bells and the bustle of metropolitan life around him. Several times he was strongly tempted to follow the newsboys and bootblacks into the street and catch a ride.
When he entered Mrs. Ricket's house he found Saunders and several others already there. Dick Ferris was in the group in the front parlor, and at a glance Hal saw that something unusual was going on.
He nodded pleasantly, and was about to pass up the stairs when Mrs. Ricket called him back.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Mr. Saunders' room has been robbed!" burst out the woman.
"What!" exclaimed Hal. "Was there much taken?"
"A pair of cuff-buttons, a gold watch-chain and my pocket-book with fourteen dollars in it," replied Saunders.
"It's too bad," sobbed Mrs. Ricket. "I would not have had that happen in my house for a hundred dollars. I wonder who could have done it?"
Suddenly Dick Ferris pulled Saunders aside, and whispered something into his ear.
The dry-goods clerk looked astonished.
"You don't mean it!" he gasped.
"I do," replied Ferris.
Saunders advanced toward Hal.
"Were you in my room this morning after I left?" he asked, sharply.
"Me?" returned Hal, with a start. "No."
"Dick says you were, and he thinks you are the thief," continued Saunders.
Saunders was excited or he would not have spoken so hastily or so bluntly.
Hal grew very pale, and clenched his hands.
"You say I entered Mr. Saunders' room?" he demanded, turning to Ferris.
"I do," replied the tall boy.
He had hardly spoken, when Hal strode over with such a determined air that Ferris was forced to beat a retreat until he backed up against a side table.
"You know you are saying what isn't so," said Hal, in a low voice. "And I want you to take it back."
"I—I am telling the truth," stammered Ferris.
"It is false. It is more likely that you entered Mr. Saunders' room yourself."
"When did you see Carson enter my room?" put in the dry-goods clerk.
"Just as I was getting ready to come down."
"Why didn't you speak of it before?" asked Mrs. Ricket.
"I thought he had gone in to see Tom."
"There is not a word of truth in what he says, and he knows it," said Hal, calmly. "It is merely a scheme to get me into trouble because he does not like me."
"No scheme about it," blustered Ferris. "If I were you I'd search his room."
"If the stolen things are there, Ferris put them there," added Hal, quickly.
"Mean to say I'm a thief?" roared Ferris, turning red in the face.
"I do."
"Take care, or I'll give you a sound thrashing."
"Similar to the one you gave me the other day, I presume," replied Hal. "I am ready for you at any time."
"We don't want any fighting in the house," cried Mrs. Ricket. "This affair is bad enough without making it worse. Mr. Carson, do you object to me and Mr. Saunders going up to your room?"
"Not at all. Come on."
Hal led the way, followed by the others. Dick Ferris smiled darkly to himself as he came on behind.
"He'll find out he can't insult me for nothing," he muttered to himself.
The room reached, Hal threw open the door, and allowed Mrs. Ricket to pass him.
"You had better make the search," he said. "That will be fair all around."
"I will. Oh, what a trouble all this is." And crying softly to herself, the landlady began her investigation.
Nothing was found in the closet nor in the drawer of the table. Then Hal's meager possessions were hauled over, and still nothing came to light.
"Look in the bureau drawer," suggested Saunders, anxiously.
Mrs. Ricket did so. From the rear the woman brought forth a large flat box, rolled up in a newspaper.
The newspaper was cast aside, and the box opened. Out came a pair of cuff-buttons, a gold watch-chain, a flat pocket-book, two inkstands, and several boxes of pens.
The instant Hal saw the articles he understood the trick that had been practiced upon him.
Saunders gave a cry.
"Those are mine! Let me see if the money is safe." He opened the pocket-book. "Gone, every dollar of it!"
He turned upon Hal.
"Give me that fourteen dollars, or I will have you locked up at once!"
"Mr. Saunders, I never took these things," replied Hal, as calmly as he could.
"Yes, but——" the dry-goods clerk was so angry he could hardly speak.
"I know it looks black against me, but perhaps I can clear myself," went on the youth.
"Yes, you can," sneered Ferris. "Look here," he pointed to the inkstands and the pens. "Aunt Amanda, do you know who those things belong to?"
"Who?"
"They belong to Sumner, Allen & Co.," replied Ferris, triumphantly.
"You are sure?" asked Saunders.
"I am, unless Carson will stick out for it that the firm gave them to him," returned Ferris.
"Is that so?" questioned Mrs. Ricket.
"They were not given to me," replied Hal, promptly. "But I know who brought them into the house."
"Who?"
"Your nephew, Mrs. Ricket. I am sorry for you, but I am telling the truth."
"Dick a thief!"
"See here, do you know what you are saying?" blustered Ferris, taken aback by this statement.
"I do."
"I won't have you talking to me in this fashion."
"Then you had better own up to what you have done," replied Hal, calmly.
"How could I get the things?" demanded Ferris. "The firm knows they were there after I left."
"I know they do," returned Hal, significantly. "And they know more than that."
Dick Ferris grew almost white at these last words. He seemed about to say something in return, but suddenly changed his mind.
"Carson, this is a serious matter," said Saunders. "I hate to say much about it, but the stuff has been found here, and I don't see how I can do otherwise than look to you for that fourteen dollars."
"Mr. Saunders, I didn't take the things, and I don't know anything about your money."
"Easy enough to say, but——" and Saunders finished with a shrug of his shoulders.
"Of course, I can't prove what I say, but I can give you my word of honor that I am telling the truth."
"That's all very well, but it doesn't restore my money, which I can't afford to lose," replied Saunders, sharply.
Hal looked around in perplexity. What was he to do?
"I can't believe you guilty," said Mrs. Ricket. "But if you have the money you had better return it."
"Of course, he's got the money," put in Ferris, who had somewhat recovered from the effects of Hal's last words to him.
Hal picked up the newspaper which had been around the box and crumpled it nervously. Suddenly a peculiar look lit up his features.
"I guess I had better send for a policeman," said Saunders, after a moment of silence.
"Just wait a moment," said Hal.
"What for?"
"I wish to ask a few questions."
"Better see that he doesn't escape," suggested Ferris.
"Let that remark apply to Ferris as well as myself," said Hal.
Saunders walked to the door, and locked it, putting the key in his pocket.
"When did you miss your things?" asked Hal.
"About an hour ago."
"At five o'clock?"
"A little before. I got off early to visit my uncle in Nyack. But I can't go without my money."
"Were you home to dinner?"
"Yes."
"Did Dick Ferris come home?"
"No."
"When did your nephew come home?" asked Hal, turning to Mrs. Ricket.
"Don't answer him, aunt," cried Ferris. He was beginning to get alarmed again.
"What harm will it do?" questioned the woman. "If you are innocent, Dick, it won't matter."
"He wants to get me into trouble."
"Please answer my question," said Hal, decidedly.
"Dick came home about two o'clock."
"Has he been home ever since?"
"I believe so."
"Now, Mrs. Ricket, where were you all the afternoon?"
"Me?"
"Yes."
"I hope you don't suspect me!" cried the landlady, in alarm.
"No, I do not. But please answer me."
"After dinner I cleaned all the halls from top to bottom, and then saw to it that Katie cleaned the front stoop and the windows."
"Then you were in the halls and around the front door most of the time?"
"I was."
"Did I come in at any time during the afternoon?"
"I didn't see you?"
"Wouldn't you have seen me if I had?"
"I suppose I would," admitted the woman.
"What does all this talk amount to?" put in Ferris.
"Shut up!" cried Hal, sharply. "I am not addressing you."
He turned to Saunders.
"You hear what Mrs. Ricket says. I was not here to steal your things."
"Humph! They might have been stolen this morning!" exclaimed Ferris.
"Or last night," added Saunders. "The last I saw of the cuff-buttons was last night, and the pocket-book yesterday noon."
"I don't see how that can be possible," replied Hal, quietly.
"It's easy enough," exclaimed Ferris. "Just because I was home during the afternoon, and you were not, doesn't prove that you didn't take the things."
"No, that doesn't, but something else does," replied Hal.
"What?"
"This newspaper, which was wrapped around the box."
At these words Ferris grew white, and trembled from head to foot.
"What about the paper?" asked Saunders, curiously.
"It is an afternoon paper, dated to-day. It could not possibly have been put around the box before one o'clock this afternoon."