Hal and the others listened with keen interest to Hardwick's words. The ex-book-keeper had the missing railroad bonds with him, and he intended to transfer them to Samuels, to be disposed of to the best advantage.
"Now is the time to capture the gang," thought Hal. "I wish my hands were free."
"Let us see what has become of Carson first," said Allen, nervously. "Somehow I don't feel safe as long as that boy is within possible hearing."
"Don't get afraid," replied Parsons. "Tommy Macklin has probably done him up, or you would hear something from him."
"Macklin tried to remove him once before," returned Allen, with a shake of his head. "That boy beats all for shrewdness."
"I would like to settle him myself," growled Hardwick. "We would never have had the least bit of trouble if it hadn't been for him. Like as not I would still have been Sumner's head and confidential clerk," he added, with a sarcastic laugh.
"Yes, and I could have made life bitterness itself for Horace Sumner," cried Allen. "I wanted to do more than ruin him."
"What makes you so bitter against Sumner?" asked Parsons.
"That's my affair," replied Allen, shortly.
"It's because Sumner married the girl Allen wanted," put in Samuels. "Allen was clean gone on her, and when she married Sumner it broke him all up."
"Shut up, Samuels!" exclaimed Allen, evidently angry at having the matter mentioned. "There are but few know of it, and I don't want it to reach Horace Sumner's ears, or——"
"It won't reach him through me, Allen, and he will never suspect that you had anything to do with his son's——"
"Will you shut up!" roared Allen, turning white with rage. "One would think, by the way your tongue rattles, that you had been drinking."
"Only had a couple of glasses," returned Samuels, coolly. "So don't get worked up, Allen."
Hal listened to this conversation with deep interest. It revealed why Allen was so bitter against Horace Sumner, and so willing to cheat his partner.
"But I don't understand about that child business yet," muttered Hal to himself.
While the others were talking Hardwick had been examining the closets, and he now came to the one in which the others had placed Hal.
"Hullo! here he is!" he shouted. "Well, how do you feel, you beggar?" the last to the boy.
"Not very well," replied Hal coolly. His hands were now loose, but he kept them behind him.
"You'll feel a sight worse before we are done with you," returned Hardwick, grimly.
"What do you intend to do with me?"
"You'll see soon enough," said the ex-book-keeper.
He turned to the others, and as he did so Hal bent down and freed his feet.
"By Jove! he's loose!" cried Parsons, glancing around.
"Yes, and I intend to stay so," cried Hal, stepping into the room. "Hardwick, I want that tin box."
"Ho! ho! hear him talk!" exclaimed Hardwick. "Jump on him, boys!"
"Stand back, every one of you!" cried Hal. "I am not alone here. There is plenty of help!"
He uttered the last word loudly, and on the instant the doors leading to the dining-room, and the one from the library opened, and Horace Sumner stepped into the parlor, followed by the two officers.
"Trapped!" howled Allen. "Macklin has either been outwitted or he has played us false!"
The two officers held pistols in their hands, and they lost no time in coming to the front.
"Surrender, all of you!" cried one of them.
"Never!" cried Allen. "Do you think I am to be caught like a rat in a trap?"
He made a dash for the hall-way, and was quickly followed by Samuels.
But the two policemen were too quick for the pair, and they were speedily overtaken, and then a desperate struggle ensued.
In the meantime Parsons tried to jump through the door-way leading to the library. In order to do this he had to pass Horace Sumner, and putting out his foot the old broker sent the man sprawling to the floor, and then ended his struggles by sitting down on him so suddenly that Parsons' wind was knocked completely out of him.
Hal still confronted Hardwick, whose eyes were fairly blazing with passion.
"Give me the box!" commanded Hal. "Quick! I mean what I say."
Instead of complying Hardwick made a vicious blow for Hal's head. The boy dodged, but in doing so slipped and went down on his back.
Before he could recover, Hardwick sprang for one of the open windows, and leaped through, carrying part of the long sash with him.
He had hardly disappeared when Hal was on his feet again. Without hesitation the youth followed through the broken window. Hardwick was making for the road, where stood a team of horses attached to a fine sleigh.
"If he gets away in that he and the tin box are goners!" was Hal's rapid conclusion. "I must stop him at all hazards."
Hardwick had a good start, but Hal made quick time after him, and when the ex-book-keeper reached the sleigh the boy was not a dozen yards behind.
"Stop, Hardwick!" he cried.
"Not much, Carson! Take that!"
Hardwick pulled out his weapon. There were two reports in rapid succession. Hal was struck in the side, and Hardwick stumbled down.
Hal was quite badly hurt, but he braced up and staggered to where Hardwick lay.
"Now give up the tin box," he ordered, in as steady a voice as he could.
"Never to you!" roared Hardwick. "You have been the cause of all my trouble. Take that!"
He fired. One bullet grazed Hal's shoulder, the others flew wide of their mark. Then the boy took the butt of his own weapon and with one blow on Hardwick's head knocked the villain unconscious.
The mist was swimming before his eyes as he gathered up the tin box and its precious contents, and staggered toward the house. The policemen had made prisoners of the gang, and Horace Sumner ran out to meet the youth.
"You are shot, Hal?" he cried, in quick alarm.
"Yes, Mr. Sumner—I—I am shot," was the low reply. "But here is the tin box and—the—bonds—safe."
And with these words Hal pitched over insensible into the broker's arms.
Horace Sumner was terribly alarmed. Paying no attention to the tin box, he knelt down and raised Hal up on his knee.
"Shot in the shoulder and in the side," he murmured after a brief examination. "Oh, I trust it be not serious!"
All of the prisoners had been handcuffed, and one of the officers followed Mr. Sumner out.
"Hullo! is he shot?" he cried.
"Yes."
"Where is the fellow with the tin box?"
"The box is here, safe. There lies the fellow. Arrest him, and fix it so he cannot get away."
The policeman at once hurried to Hardwick's side, and before the ex-book-keeper had fully recovered consciousness he was handcuffed and then placed in a room with the other prisoners.
"What are you going to do with us?" he demanded of the policeman who stood guard at the door, pistol in hand.
"You will see later. Not another word now."
And Hardwick was forced to keep silent, as were also the others.
There was another house not far distant, and getting the sleigh, Mr. Sumner placed Hal's form into it, and drove him around to the door.
Matters were quickly explained, and as the broker showed that he was a wealthy man, and well able to pay for accommodations, Hal was at once lifted into the house and placed on a comfortable bed in one of the upper rooms.
"Send for the nearest doctor, please," said Horace Sumner. "And tell him he must come at once, no matter what the expense. Tell him I am Horace Sumner, the broker, of Wall Street."
The man about the place at once hurried off, and placing the tin box, which he had picked up out of the snow, on the table, Horace Sumner bent over Hal's motionless form, and sought by every means in his power to restore him to consciousness.
In working over Hal's clothing the golden locket the youth considered his birthright came to light. For the moment Horace Sumner paid no attention to it, but placed it on top of the tin box.
At last Hal opened his eyes and stared around him.
"Hal, how do you feel?" questioned the old broker, with real anxiety in his tones.
"Mr. Sumner! the box—did you——"
"It is safe, Hal."
"I am so glad," and a smile came over the pallid face.
"But, my poor boy, you are hurt—Hardwick shot you. Can't you feel it?"
"Yes, in my side and my shoulder, but I don't think it's very bad, and I'll soon——"
Before Hal could finish he fainted away. Less than ten minutes later the man about the place returned with an experienced physician.
"Not dangerously wounded," was his opinion, after a thorough examination. "He will be as sound as a dollar in a couple of months. But he ought not to be moved for several weeks."
"He shall not be," said Horace Sumner.
And he at once made arrangements with the owner of the house to have the use of that room and the next for the entire time mentioned with board and care for a nurse and Hal.
An hour later Hal was resting easier, and then Horace Sumner arose to leave and find out what the officers had done with the captured criminals.
As he turned to pick up the tin box he noticed the golden locket. He took it up rather carelessly, but suddenly a peculiar look stole into his eyes, and dropping the tin box he hurriedly opened the locket.
"My heavens!" he ejaculated.
The exclamation was so pronounced that it awoke Hal, and the youth opened his eyes wide, and stared at the man.
"Where—where did you get this locket?" demanded Horace Sumner, in a voice husky with emotion.
"It is my birthright—or at least all I have of one," replied the youth.
"Your birthright?"
"That's what I call it, sir. It was around my neck when I was found on the streets of Fairham."
"Can this be true? When was this?"
"About sixteen years ago. But what—what—"
"Stop! what part of the year, Hal? answer me quickly."
"It was one Fourth of July night."
Horace Sumner staggered back.
"Fourth of July," he muttered to himself. "And little Howard disappeared on the twenty-seventh of June. Can it be——"
"You say you do not know anything about yourself?" he asked of Hal.
"No, sir. The people at Fairham tried to find out, but they didn't make a very great effort, I'm thinking, and so I—I—well, you can see how it is."
"You are not to blame, Hal. A better or more noble boy never lived—and—and I thank God that is so, for it—I will explain later. I must see Caleb Allen without delay."
And with his tin box under his arm, Horace Sumner rushed from the house, taking the golden locket with him.
When he appeared at the station-house he seemed almost like a crazy man, so eager was he to interview Allen. A private meeting between the two was speedily arranged.
"Allen, I have come on an important mission," began Horace Sumner.
"Have you? I thought you had your bonds," returned the swindler, as cooly as he could.
"I am not referring to the bonds. This matter is far more important."
"Indeed!"
"When you and the others were at the old Flack mansion Samuels mentioned a subject that lies close to my heart."
"Samuels didn't know what he was saying," growled Allen, turning pale.
"He did, Allen. I have been blind, but my eyes are now wide open. Caleb Allen, years ago you stole my son, my little baby boy."
"It's not true!" almost shouted Allen, but he trembled from head to foot.
"It is true. I have the evidence to prove it. Do you deny that you took the little one first to Philadelphia and then to the village of Fairham, and on the night of the Fourth of July——"
Caleb Allen jumped up as if shot.
"So Tommy Macklin has been blabbing, had he?" he screamed. "But it won't do you any good, Horace Sumner. The boy is lost to you—you will never hear of him again."
"So?" The old broker pulled the golden locket from his pocket. "Look at this. It was around his neck when he was stolen, and it has been the connecting link to prove his identity. He is found, and my little boy Howard is—Hal Carson, the youth who helped to bring you to justice."
Here we must bring our tale to a close.
What Horace Sumner had said was true. Hal Carson was really his son, who had been stolen by Caleb Allen and Tommy Macklin, the latter having, even in those days, been a ready tool of the swindler.
Even after having robbed Sumner of his only son, Allen's hatred was not satisfied, and he entered into the limited partnership only for the purpose of ruining the man.
Allen had fallen in with Hardwick at a gambling house uptown, and the two soon became firm friends. At that time Dick Ferris was a great admirer of Hardwick, who found the tall boy a fellow without scruples of any kind.
Hal was amazed when he learned the truth concerning himself. At first he could not believe it, but when it came home to him he was overjoyed. He speedily recovered from the wounds Hardwick had inflicted, and one fine day in the early part of the following year Horace Sumner and Laura took him to the elegant mansion which was in future to be his home as well as theirs.
Hardwick, Allen, Macklin, and Samuels were all tried, and sentenced to various terms of imprisonment. Parsons escaped, and went to England.
When the police started to find Dick Ferris they found that the tall boy had shipped on a three years, whaling voyage. To this day he has not returned to New York.
The recovery of the tin box containing the railroad bonds saved Horace Sumner from ruin. He and his son are now in partnership on Wall Street, and trusty Jack McCabe is their office boy. Hal, or Howard, as he is now called, is rich, and is surrounded by friends, but it is not likely that he will ever forget the time he came to New York a poor boy, and solved the mystery of the Missing Tin Box.