Ferris had a number of slips in his hand, and these the proprietor was examining with great care.

"You wish all of them duplicated?" he asked.

"Yes," replied Dick Ferris.

"It's a nice piece of work."

"I suppose it is, but the firm is willing to pay for it."

"Who are the blanks for?"

"Mr. Albert Schwartz. But I am to call for them."

"I do not know the gentleman."

"I will leave a deposit on the work," replied Ferris, promptly.

"Oh, all right! And how many of each of these blanks do you want?"

"Twenty of each."

"What! No more?"

"No. Next year we are going to have an entirely new set. If you do these right, Mr. Schwartz says he may give you the new work."

"I'll do them in the best style. How soon do you want them?"

"As soon as possible. We are in a great hurry for them."

"In two days do?"

"Oh, yes!"

"Very well. They will cost thirty-six dollars."

"As much as that?"

"Yes. I will have to take my workmen from another job, and we always charge a little more for a rush."

"How much of a deposit shall I leave?"

"Five dollars will do."

"Then here you are."

Dick Ferris pulled a five-dollar bill from his pocket, and, after receiving his receipt, walked out of the office.

He glanced at Hal as he passed, but our hero's back was turned to him, and Hal seemed to be interested in some prints which hung upon the wall.

"Now, sir, what can I do for you?" questioned the proprietor, turning to Hal.

He left the slips Ferris had brought lying upon the counter.

"I would like to know how much you charge for printing wedding invitations," replied Hal, approaching the counter where the slips lay.

"Wedding invitations, eh?" The proprietor smiled. "Here is a young man about to get married," he thought. "By his looks, I think, he wants something rather nice."

"Yes, sir," said Hal.

"With an engraved plate, I suppose?"

"Of course."

"I'll show you our book of specimens."

The man turned away to where a number of books were lying upon a side desk. As he did so, Hal carelessly picked up the slips Ferris had left and examined them.

He could make nothing of them, excepting that one had the words: "Bonds of the Second Class, receivable," printed across its face, and another, "Sumner, Allen & Co. Transfer Slip of Limited Calls, December."

"Here you are," said the man, coming up with one of the books, and he gathered up the slips and put them away with a memorandum.

Hal looked over the book, and noted down the prices of several styles of invitations.

"I do not want to order," he said. "I merely wanted the prices."

"Very well. Glad to see you at any time," returned the man.

Once down in the street again, Hal looked up and down, but could see nothing of Ferris.

But when the youth reached Grand Street he beheld Ferris making for downtown as rapidly as his long legs would carry him.

"I suppose he is going to stand outside and meet Mr. Allen when he comes out," thought Hal. "I will follow him, and see what turns up next."

Dick Ferris walked up Grand Street until he came to Broadway. Here he stood upon the corner, and presently waved his hand toward a passing horse-car.

Immediately a man descended from the car, and came toward the tall youth. It was Hardwick.

"Hullo! This can't be a chance meeting," said Hal to himself. "No wonder Ferris hurried to the corner. He almost missed his man."

As Hardwick stepped from the street to the sidewalk, he glanced toward where Hal was standing, gazing into a shop window. Then he turned to Ferris, and the two began an earnest conversation.

Hal passed the pair, but did not catch a word of what was said. Nor did the young watcher notice Dick Ferris' quick, nervous look in his direction.

A few minutes later, Hardwick and Ferris walked back down Grand Street. Reaching Chrystie, they turned into it, and walked along several blocks until they came to a narrow alley leading to a lumber-yard.

Both passed into the lumber-yard and out of Hal's sight. Wondering what had become of them, the boy passed the place.

No one was in sight.

"That's queer. I wonder if they entered that building in the rear?"

For fully ten minutes Hal hung around, but neither Hardwick nor Ferris put in an appearance.

A wagon was leading up on one side of the yard, but presently this drove off, and then all became quiet.

Watching his chance, when he thought no one was observing him, Hal entered the gate of the lumber-yard and hurried down to the building in the rear.

There was a window beside the door to the place, and Hal gazed inside.

An elderly man was present. He was seated beside a hot stove, toasting his shins and reading a morning paper.

"They didn't enter the office, that's certain," said Hal to himself. "Now, where did they go?"

Suddenly he stopped short. Was it possible that Hardwick and Ferris had discovered that they were being followed, and had slipped through the lumber-yard merely to throw him off the scent?

"It certainly looks like it," thought Hal. "I'll sneak around the back way, and see what I can discover."

Back of the office were great piles of lumber, all thickly covered with snow. Among them could plainly be seen the footsteps of two people. The marks were fresh, and led along the back fence and then to the right.

Hal followed the marks among the piles of lumber until he came to a spot where all became mixed, as if some one had retraced his steps.

As he paused, examining the tracks, he heard a noise behind him, and, turning, he found himself confronted by Hardwick.

"I want to know what you are following me about for?" demanded the man, savagely.



CHAPTER XXV.

HAL'S ESCAPE FROM HARDWICK.

Hal could not help but shrink back as Hardwick advanced.

"Did you hear what I said?" demanded the man, after a second of silence.

"I did," replied Hal, in a disguised voice. He did not know whether or not Hardwick had discovered his real identity, and he intended to run no risk in the matter.

"Then answer me."

"Supposing I refuse to do so?"

"It won't help you," fumed Hardwick. "I know perfectly well who you are."

"You do?" cried Hal, and he was taken aback by the ex-book-keeper's words.

"Exactly. You are one of those mighty smart detectives old Sumner has employed to shadow me."

Hal could not help but breathe a sigh of relief. His identity was still a secret.

"Ain't I right?" went on Hardwick, seeing the youth did not reply.

"I decline to answer," replied Hal, firmly.

"Oh, you do?" sneered Hardwick.

"I do."

"Then you understand I've got you in a corner."

"I understand nothing of the sort."

"Supposing I should pull out my pistol?"

"You won't dare to do so."

"And pray why? How do I know but what you are not a footpad?" cried Hardwick, getting angry at Hal's apparent coolness.

"Because a shot might bring others to the spot," said the youth, bravely.

"No one is around."

"You forget that in New York detectives often travel in pairs."

It was a random remark, but it told. Hardwick turned pale, and shifted uneasily.

"You're a cool customer," he said, eyeing Hal sharply.

"Detectives have to be cool."

"You won't gain anything by following me."

"I haven't said that I was following you."

"But you have admitted that you are a detective, and that amounts to the same thing."

"Perhaps it does and perhaps it doesn't."

As Hal spoke, he looked around for Dick Ferris. The tall youth was nowhere to be seen.

"What are you looking for?"

"That's my business."

"Come, don't get cheeky."

"Then don't question me."

Hardwick's eyes flashed fire. A dark look of hatred came into his face, and he made a spring forward.

"I'll teach you a lesson," he hissed.

"Stand back!" cried Hal. "Stand back, or take the consequence!"

Hardly had Hal spoken the words when a sudden shadow caused him to glance upward.

It was well that he did so.

On a large pile of lumber stood Dick Ferris, and in his hands he held a heavy beam, which he was just on the point of letting fall upon Hal's head.

The boy had barely time enough to spring to one side when with a boom the beam came down and buried itself in the snow.

"You mean coward!" cried the youth. "Wait till I catch you!"

He made a dash to the side of the pile, which was arranged like steps, intending to mount to where Ferris stood.

As he did so, Hardwick shouted something to the tall boy, and then leaped the fence of the lumber-yard, and ran out on the side street.

Ferris could not see Hal now, but he understood what Hardwick said, and as Hal mounted to the top of the pile the tall boy got down and let himself drop off the edge.

He landed in the deep snow, and was not hurt in the least. Before Hal could discover his flight, he was over the fence and on his way to join Hardwick.

It took Hal but a minute to learn of the direction the two escaping evil-doers had taken, and then he made after them with all possible speed.

But the pursuit was a useless one, and at the end of several blocks Hal gave it up, and dropped into a walk.

What was best to do next? Hal revolved the question in his mind a number of times, and then, without wasting time, made his way back to the costumer's establishment.

"I wish my disguise changed," he said.

"What, already?" said the proprietor, in astonishment.

"Yes, something has happened since I was here, and now I wish you to fix me up differently."

"But the same sort of a character?"

"Yes."

"Then supposing I give you a different colored mustache and a beard for those side whiskers?"

"That will do, if you will also change this suit and overcoat."

"Certainly."

The exchange was quickly made, and, looking like an entirely different person, Hal left the costumer's and hurried down to Wall Street.

Making sure that no one but the new book-keeper and Mr. Sumner were about the place, he entered.

"That's a splendid disguise," said the old broker, when the two were alone.

"It's the second I've had to-day," said Hal.

"The second?"

"Yes. Since I saw you last I've had quite a few adventures."

"Of what nature, Hal? I trust you had no more trouble?"

"It didn't amount to much."

And, sitting down, Hal related all that had occurred.

"Dick Ferris must be a very wicked boy," remarked the broker, when Hal had finished. "But about these slips that he is going to have printed. Are you positive Mr. Allen gave them to him?"

"No, sir. But I think he did. He gave Ferris something and some money, and Ferris lost no time in getting to the printing establishment."

"Humph!" Mr. Sumner mused for a moment. "I can hardly believe it, even though the evidence seems plain enough."

"What are the slips?" asked Hal, with considerable curiosity.

"They are of the kind which we use in our daily business. Since Mr. Allen and myself agreed to end our limited partnership, I have kept the regular slips in my safe. Formerly they were in Hardwick's charge, where both of us could have easy access to them, but now—well, to be plain, I allow no business to be conducted unless under my supervision."

"And that is right, Mr. Sumner."

"Now, if Mr. Allen is really having these extra slips printed, it would seem as if he—he——"

"Intended to make use of them without consulting you," finished Hal, bluntly.

"Yes."

"He is none too good for that, sir. But wasn't he here this morning?"

"Yes. We had a very stormy interview. He is angry because I discharged Hardwick, and would not believe me when I said Hardwick was a defaulter."

"That's part of his plan."

"You may be right, Hal. You are a wonderful boy. As I was saying, we had a stormy interview, and I doubt if he spends a great deal of time here during the remaining days of our partnership."

"The partnership ends on New Year's day, doesn't it?"

"That was the day set, but by mutual agreement we have made the date the twentieth of December."

"Why, that is day after to-morrow."

"Yes."

"The day the slips are to be finished."

"So it is."

"No wonder Ferris wished them as soon as possible."

Horace Sumner arose, and walked up and down the office.

"If there is to be any crooked work in the matter of the slips, I will take good care to head it off. I might be swindled out of thousands of dollars in that way."

"You will look over the genuine slips, I suppose?"

"I will, in the presence of the new book-keeper and another witness. There shall be no under-handed work in the matter. I believe you are altogether right, Hal. I have been surrounded by villains, and they would pluck me to the end if I but gave them the chance."



CHAPTER XXVI.

HAL OBTAINS ANOTHER SITUATION.

For a moment there was silence, and then Horace Sumner stopped short before Hal.

"There is another matter I might mention," he said. "Caleb Allen is going, or rather, has gone, into business for himself."

"What kind of business?" asked the youth, in surprise.

"A brokerage and loan office."

"Near here?"

"Yes, right around the corner of Broad Street, not five minutes, walk. He hired the place from the first, and I understand he and another man are already doing business there."

"Who is the other man?"

"A fellow named Parsons."

"Has he a good reputation?"

"Far from it. He was arrested for forgery five years ago, but his friends hushed the matter up."

"Have you the number of the place?"

"Yes, here it is. What do you intend to do?"

"I don't know. I'll take a look at the place. That will do no harm. Perhaps Hardwick will call on Mr. Allen."

After a few words more Hal left the private office, and passed out on Wall Street.

He soon turned the corner into Broad Street, the second great money center of New York, and presently came to the building in which was situated the offices now occupied by the firm of Allen & Parsons.

The offices were down three steps, and as Hal passed on the pavement above, a small sign pasted in the corner of the window attracted his attention:

YOUNG MAN WANTED. RAPID WRITER.

Stopping short, Hal descended the steps, and peered into the window. A middle-aged man stood at the front desk, smoking a cigar and writing.

"That must be either Mr. Parsons or a book-keeper," thought Hal.

Then a sudden determination sprang up in his mind. Without a second thought he entered the office and walked up to the desk.

The man looked up, and laid down his cigar.

"Well, sir, what is it?" he asked, in a pleasant voice.

"Is this one of the proprietors?"

"Yes, I am Mr. Parsons."

"I see you want a young man, sir."

"We do." Most of the pleasantness vanished, and a sharp look came to the man's face. "You are looking for a situation?"

"Yes, sir."

"Are you a good writer?"

"I will show you my hand, sir?"

"All right. Here is paper and ink. Write a sheetful as rapidly as you can do so in good style."

Hal took up the pen. He was really a rapid writer, and in five minutes the job was done. Parsons looked at the work.

"That might do. Have you any recommendations?"

"No, sir. I am a stranger in New York."

"Ah, a stranger." A certain pleased look came into the broker's eyes. "What's your idea of salary?"

"I hardly know. I must support myself."

"All alone?"

"Yes, sir."

Parsons appeared better pleased than ever.

"Just the kind of a fellow Allen and I want," he muttered to himself.

"I will give you a trial on seven dollars a week, and, if you suit, I will raise you to eight."

"Thank you, sir."

"What is your name?"

"Frank Hallen," replied Hal, using the cognomen of one of his poor-house associates.

"Very well, Hallen. Are you ready to go to work at once?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then come inside."

Hal walked behind the railing, and Parsons showed him where to place his coat and hat.

"Here is a copy of a letter I wish duplicated ten times. You can go to work at this second desk. At one o'clock you can take half an hour for lunch."

"Yes, sir."

Hal gathered his material about him, and went to work as if his very life depended on it.

"He seems to be an awfully shrewd man," he thought, meaning Parsons. "I wonder what he would say if he knew I had taken the job merely as a blind?"

He could not help but smile to himself, and Parsons saw the smile, but misinterpreted it.

"He feels good over dropping into a situation, I suppose," he muttered. "Well, if he's a stranger in New York and alone, he is probably just the fellow for Allen's work. It won't do to have a chap around who is too well acquainted."

Hal had made four copies of the letter when the front door opened, and Caleb Allen entered.

The broker looked rather surprised when he saw Hal, but he did not recognize the youth, and Hal drew a deep sigh of relief.

"Got a clerk, eh?" said Allen, to his new partner.

"Yes," replied Parsons. "Hallen, this is Mr. Allen, your other employer."

Hal bowed. Then Allen turned to an office in the rear, and Parsons immediately followed him.

The door, which was partly of ground glass, was tightly closed.

Hal waited for an instant, and then, leaving the desk, tiptoed his way to the rear.

By listening intently, he could just catch what was said.

"You say he is a stranger in New York?" were the first words he heard, coming from Allen.

"Yes."

"Humph! He will have a job finding his way around, I'm thinking."

"He looks bright enough. I thought it would be better than to hire somebody who knew too much about financial matters here," returned Parsons.

"That's so!" cried Allen. "A good idea. Has Samuels called yet?"

"No."

"He ought to be here by this time."

"Samuels is always slow. But tell me, how did you make out over at the old place?"

"We had a deuce of a racket," exclaimed Allen, savagely. "Since Hardwick was found out Sumner has watched me like a cat."

"Of course, you didn't give him any satisfaction."

"Not much! But I can tell you I had to talk mighty smooth to keep things down."

"How about dissolving?"

"The affair comes off on the twentieth."

"What! Can you get ready by that time?"

"Luckily, yes."

"Are you going to do as I suggested about those slips?"

"Yes. I was just after the boy who ordered them for me, and he says they are to be done in two days, sure. It won't take an hour to fix them up after I get them."

"Nothing like being a slick penman, Caleb."

And Parsons chuckled.

"Hush! That new man might hear you."

"That's so. But I fancy he's rather green, in spite of the fact that he wants to appear like a New Yorker."

"If he's green, so much the better. Now, about this business with Samuels. Do you think he can be trusted?"

"Yes. I know Samuels thoroughly, and, besides, I have a hold on him."

"A good hold?"

"I could send him to prison if I wished."

"And he will undertake to work off the bonds in Chicago?"

"I believe so. But he wants big pay."

"How much?"

"Twenty per cent."

"Twenty per cent.!" cried Allen. "Is he crazy?"

"He says he will run a big risk."

"Any more than Hardwick and I ran in obtaining them?"

"No, indeed. Perhaps you can make him come down."

"I certainly shall. Hardwick hasn't shown up, has he?"

"No. Do you expect him?"

"Yes."

"Is it prudent? Old Sumner may have his detectives around."

"I thought of that, and wrote to Hardwick about it. Hereafter he will disguise himself, and——"

Hal heard no more. The front door opened, and a stranger hurried in.



CHAPTER XXVII.

HAL PLAYS A DARING PART.

Hal lost no time in confronting the new-comer.

"Is Mr. Parsons in?" asked the stranger.

"Yes, sir."

"Tell him Mr. Samuels is here."

"I will, sir."

Hal walked back, and knocked on the rear office door.

"Come!" said Allen.

"A Mr. Samuels to see Mr. Parsons," said the youth.

"Show him in."

Mr. Samuels was conducted to the rear office, and once more the door was tightly closed.

Hal was slightly disturbed. Had the new-comer caught him listening in the back, or had he taken no notice?

The only way to learn was to remain where he had been before, and this the youth did.

"Well, Samuels, on hand I see," said Parsons. "Mr. Allen just came in."

"Then we can come to business without delay," replied Samuels.

He was a small-faced Jew, with eyes that appeared to be more than half closed. As he spoke, he drew up a chair close to where the other two were sitting.

"Say," he went on. "Who is the young fellow outside?"

"Our new clerk."

"Can you trust him?"

"I think so. Why?"

"He might overhear what was said."

"He won't if you don't talk too loud."

"Very well."

"Hold on," put in Allen. "Parsons, send him off to mail some letters."

The junior partner at once walked outside, and, taking up a bunch of letters, handed them to Hal.

"Mail these," he said. "And then you can go to lunch."

"Yes, sir."

Hal at once put on his overcoat and hat, and walked out with the letters. He wished he could have remained in the office, for he felt certain the conversation about to ensue would be a most important one.

He dropped the letters into the nearest box, and then stood undecided what to do next.

"Mr. Allen has those bonds, that's certain," he said to himself. "I wonder if it would do any good to notify the police?"

But this plan did not appear to be just the right one. If arrested, Allen would, of course, deny any knowledge of the stolen property and all the proof Hal had was his own word, and that might not go very far in a court of law.

"No, the only thing to do is to find those bonds and get them back myself," he muttered. "Perhaps Allen only has part of them, and Hardwick the other part. Besides, I have not yet learned what Macklin and Ferris have to do with the case."

He knew there was a window in the back of the rear office; this was tightly closed, so it would be of no use to attempt to hear anything from that direction.

At last Hal took his stand opposite the entrance to the office. He had hardly done so when Parsons and Samuels came out, and hurried up the street at the top of their walking powers.

"Something is up," thought Hal. "Shall I follow them, or remain behind with Allen?"

He knew if he wished to keep his place as clerk, he ought to go back soon. He hesitated, and then decided to remain. So, procuring a sandwich and an apple, he munched them down, and then walked in.

Caleb Allen looked at him darkly as he entered, but said nothing, and, hanging up his coat and hat, Hal resumed the copying of the letter.

Half an hour later, a tall man came in. He was well dressed, and wore a heavy black mustache and beard.

He glanced at Hal, and then walked over to where Allen sat at a desk, writing a letter.

"I want to see you in private," he said, in a low tone.

The voice of the stranger sounded strangely familiar to Hal. Where had he heard it before?

Allen looked perplexed for an instant, and then seemed to comprehend the situation. He at once led the way to the office in the rear. The stranger entered, and the door was once more tightly closed.

Our young hero at once left off writing, and tiptoed his way back. An idea had struck him concerning the stranger's identity, and the first words from behind the thin partition proved that he was correct.

"So you have donned the disguise, Hardwick," were Allen's words.

"Yes, deuce take the luck, I was forced to do it."

"You got my letter advising it?"

"I did. But that wasn't what brought me to it. I was followed by one of old Sumner's detectives."

"Ha! Did he discover anything?"

"Not from me. But I'm afraid he did in another direction."

Allen turned pale, and shifted uneasily.

"What way?" he exclaimed, hoarsely.

"I am pretty well satisfied the same fellow followed Ferris to the establishment where you are having those bogus bills printed."

"And what did he learn?"

"I am not sure he really followed, and, of course, I don't know how much he learned."

"Too bad! Did you come face to face with the man?"

"I did, but he got away from us."

"Who do you mean—was Ferris with you?"

"Yes. He thought he recognized the man as one who followed him to the printing office."

"I see. We must be careful, Hardwick, very careful."

"If it hadn't been for that Carson it would be all right," growled the ex-book-keeper. "I would like to wring that boy's neck."

"So would I. But what has become of him? He was not at the office this morning when I was there."

"I don't know. He boarded with Ferris' aunt, but he has left there, too."

"That's queer."

"I have an idea he isn't so much of a boy as we think," said Hardwick, with a shake of his head.

"What do you mean?"

"I believe if he isn't a regular detective, he is next door to it, and was hired by Sumner to spot me. That scene in the office when I accused him was a put-up job on his part and Sumner's. See how easily Sumner sided with him in every instance."

"By Jove! you may be right," cried Allen. "We must be more than careful, or——"

Hal did not catch the words that followed, for the door of the office opened and a slouching figure entered. It was Tommy Macklin.

Veiling his astonishment as best he could, Hal approached the tough.

"What is it?" he asked, briefly.

"Is der boss in?" asked Macklin.

"Do you mean Mr. Allen or Mr. Parsons?" asked Hal, although he knew very well.

"Mr. Allen."

"I will see. What name?"

"Wot's dat?"

"What is your name?"

"Me name ain't got nothin' ter do wid it. Tell him a gent from der east side wants ter talk ter him a few minits."

"I will."

Hal rapped on the door. It was quickly opened by Mr. Allen.

"Here is a man wants to see you, sir," said Hal. "He says he's from the east side, and won't give any name."

Allen looked out toward Macklin. He looked disturbed when he recognized the tough.

"Step this way," he called out, and Macklin entered the office.

"Now, what brings you?" demanded Allen, as soon as the door was shut.

Instead of replying, Macklin looked at Hardwick, who had taken off part of his disguise.

"Wot! You here?" he faltered.

"Yes, Tommy, you didn't expect it, did you?" returned Hardwick, with a short laugh.

"No, I didn't."

"What brought you?"

"I want money," said the tough, coming forward and putting on a bold front. "I want money from both of yer; see?"

"How much?" asked Allen.

"A t'ousand dollars."

"You are crazy!" cried the broker.

"No I ain't. I mean just wot I say, Allen. I want five hundred from you, an' der udder from Hardwick."

"Supposing we won't pay it?"

"Den I'll tell der police wot I know; I ain't doin' yer work fer nothin'."

And the tough poked his nose close to that of Caleb Allen.

"Nonsense, Tommy!" put in Hardwick. "I agreed to give you a hundred dollars for keeping quiet about what you know, and that's all you'll get."

"Den I'll—wot's dat?"

A loud noise in the outer office startled Macklin. Hal, listening at the door, suddenly found himself in the hands of Parsons and Samuels.

"A spy, as I thought," cried Samuels. "Hardwick! Allen!"

The two called, rushed out, and Hal was surrounded.

"A spy, is he?" cried Allen. "Who can——"

"That beard is false!" exclaimed Hardwick, tearing it as well as the mustache from our hero's face. "Hal Carson! Boys, lock the front door! If he escapes, we shall be ruined!"



CHAPTER XXVIII.

HAL IS EXPOSED.

The moment that Hardwick made his announcement, Parsons sprang to the front door and locked it.

"Carson!" muttered Allen. "Hardwick, you were right, he is nothing more nor less than a spy."

When Tommy Macklin saw the face of Hal he grew pale as death.

"Carson!" he gasped, falling back.

"What's the matter with you?" demanded Hardwick.

"Dat's der chap wot followed Ferris ter my house."

"Followed Ferris. When?"

"Der night he brung me dat letter from you about dat bus'ness over to der—you know."

"You are sure?"

"Sure," repeated Macklin, in deep disgust. "I t'ink I am."

"How did you happen to catch him?"

"He was spyin' at der door, same as here. We collared him, and knocked him down. I t'ought he was dead, an' me an' Ferris chucked him in a vat in der cellar of der old pickle factory."

"Ferris said nothing of this to me," said Hardwick.

"He was most scared stiff, dat feller was," replied Macklin, disdainfully. "I guess he t'ought he would not say nuthin' ter nobody."

During this time Hal had not said a word, but now he spoke up.

"What do you intend to do with me?" he asked.

"You'll see fast enough," replied Hardwick. "We have got you fast this time. Do you know what I think? I think you are the same fellow that I met in the lumber-yard."

"And if I am, Hardwick, what of it?"

"It will go so much the harder with you."

"Let us bind him so he cannot escape," said Allen. "He is a dangerous young man to have loose."

"There is a rope in the closet," said Parsons. "Bind him with that, if you want to."

The rope was speedily brought forth, and Hal was bound hands and feet. There was no use trying to escape, and consequently he did not undertake to do so.

"Put him in the closet," ordered the broker, when the job of binding Hal was completed.

"Gag him first," cautioned Hardwick. "We don't want him to raise the roof, if he's left alone. We'll fix him later."

The gag was inserted in Hal's mouth, and then he was lifted up by Macklin and the others and dumped into the corner of the closet, and the door was closed and locked upon him.

From the closet, which was damp and cold, he could hear the confused murmur of voices, but could not make out a word of what was being said. The murmur continued fully half an hour, and then all became as silent as the grave.

Hal was all but suffocated by the rude gag which had been forced into his mouth. All was dark, and his position was a painful one, not only mentally, but bodily as well.

What the rogues intended to do with him he did not know. If only he could free himself and get away!

With might and main he tugged at the rope which bound his hands. At first it remained tight, but at last it loosened sufficiently to allow him to slip out his right hand.

The left soon followed; and Hal's next work was to remove the gag from his mouth. What a relief it was to once more close his mouth!

His feet freed, the boy looked about for some means by which to escape from the closet. The door was locked, as has been mentioned, but it was a poor affair, and Hal knew he could easily force it open with his shoulder.

Before proceeding to this extremity, he listened intently. It must be near three o'clock, and he wondered if all the others had left.

Suddenly voices broke upon his ear, and he heard Hardwick and Macklin enter the rear office. By applying his ear to the key-hole Hal heard what was said. If they opened the closet door, he determined to make a bold dash for liberty.

"How much is der in dis new ob?" Macklin asked.

"Two hundred dollars, if he never comes back."

"Den pass over der cash."

"I'll pay you after the job is done, Tommy."

"No yer don't. Dis is a cash-in-advance job."

"Can't you trust me?"

"I kin, but I ain't goin' ter."

"It's to your interest as much as ours to have him out of the way."

"Dat's all right, too, but its pay or no job, Hardwick."

"If I pay you now you may make a balk as you did before."

"No, dis will be a sure t'ing, I'll give yer me word."

"Then here you are."

A silence followed.

"Is that right?" asked Hardwick.

"Yes. But, remember, dis ain't part of dat t'ousand I'm ter have fer dat udder work."

"I understand. Now, go for the coach, and I'll stay till you come back. It's getting dark, and the street is almost deserted."

"I will. Better lock der door, and don't unlock it again till yer hear four knocks; see?"

"Yes."

Macklin at once went off, and Hal heard Hardwick lock the door after him as agreed, but the key was left in the lock.

By the conversation Hal knew it must be later than he had supposed. Under cover of the darkness Macklin was going to bring a coach to the place. For what purpose?

In spite of his naturally brave spirit, Hal shivered. He was in the power of a desperate set of men, and he had learned enough of their secrets to convict every one of them. They would not hesitate to do anything to escape their just deserts.

"I must fight for it," he muttered to himself, "and now is the best time to do it."

He opened the closet door cautiously, and peeped out. Hardwick sat in an easy-chair, smoking savagely, as if he were out of humor. No one else was in the place.

The office was heavily carpeted, so Hal made no noise as he stepped out of the closet. He had to pass within five feet of Hardwick, who sat with his back half turned to the boy.

Hardly daring to breathe, Hal tiptoed his way past Hardwick and into the outer office, the door to which stood wide open. Here it was quite dark, and the boy saw through the window that it was again snowing heavily.

At last the door was reached, and his hand was upon the key, ready to turn it in the lock.

Suddenly, as if struck by an idea, Hardwick jumped to his feet and came out. His intention was to examine something on one of the outer desks, and when he beheld Hal he stared at the youth in blank amazement.

"Where—where—" he began.

Without saying a word, Hal turned the key and caught hold of the latch of the door. Then, with something that sounded like the growl of a wild animal, Hardwick pounced upon him.

"No, you don't!" he hissed. "You sha'n't escape this time. Come back here!"

He caught Hal by the coat collar. The youth struggled, and then struck out with all force.

The blow landed on Hardwick's chin, and knocked his head back with such force that for the instant he let slip his grasp and Hal was free.

But before the plucky youth could open the door the man had him fast again, and was punching him with all his might.

"I'll teach you a lesson!" he cried. "Take that! and that! You are smart, but you are not smart enough for me!"

"Let go!" cried Hal.

But Hardwick continued to pound him. Then, in sheer desperation, Hal closed in and fought tooth and nail, as if his very life depended on it.

Hardwick was a heavy-built man, but he was no match for the youth, who all his life had been used to hard labor, and whose muscles, consequently, were like steel. He struck Hal many times, but the youth squirmed and twisted, and suddenly hit him a crack between the eyes that made him see stars.

"Oh!" he howled, and dropped back, while Hal, taking advantage of this stroke of good luck, made another dash for the front door.

He opened the door, and was half-way out when Hardwick, realizing what escape meant, leaped forward and caught him by the coat.

"Let go!" cried Hal, and with a jerk he tore away and started up the steps leading to the street.

He had scarcely taken half a dozen steps when he ran full tilt into Macklin, who had just driven up on the box of a closed coach.

"Wot's dis?" cried the tough. "Carson! no yer don't!"

He carried his whip in his hand, and as he spoke he brought the butt down on Hal's head with full force.

There was a strange flash of fire through Hal's brain, and then all became a dark blank.



CHAPTER XXIX.

HAL MAKES A LIVELY MOVE.

When Hal came to his senses he found himself bound and gagged as before, but instead of being in a closet he was now in a coach that was whirling along as fast as the deep snow would permit.

The curtains of the vehicle were tightly drawn, so the youth had no chance of seeing where he was being taken.

His head ached fearfully from the blow Tommy Macklin had administered, and for several minutes he could hardly collect himself.

"Missed it!" he groaned to himself. "And now those villains have me completely in their power."

It was not a pleasant thought, and therefore Hal did not allow his mind to dwell upon it.

He wondered if he could get open one of the doors of the coach, and leap, or rather tumble, to the ground. It would be a dangerous experiment, considering how he was tied up, but Hal was willing to assume desperate risks just now.

He fumbled around with his bound hands for fully five minutes, and at last succeeded in turning the handle to one of the coach doors, which immediately swung open.

Hal looked out. They were on an almost deserted road. It was quite dark, and still snowing.

"If I drop out here I may be frozen to death before I can free myself," he thought. "I will wait until we pass a house of some sort."

Hal had hardly reached this conclusion before the coach rolled past an elegant road-house, brilliantly illuminated from top to bottom.

"Now is my chance," he thought. "There ought to be somebody around to pick me up."

Losing no time, for they had now passed several rods beyond the road-house, the plucky boy wriggled his body toward the open door of the coach.

Watching for what he thought a favorable opportunity, Hal gave himself a lurch forward and tumbled out into the snow. But as he did so one of the rear wheels of the coach struck him on the side of the head, and the blow rendered him unconscious.

His body lay where it had fallen for several minutes. Then two young men in a cutter came driving from the road-house.

"Hullo, Ike, what's that?" cried one of them, pulling up.

"Looks like a tramp in the snow," replied the other. "Let's drive out of the way."

"We can't leave him here. He'll be frozen to death."

"By Jove, Will, you're right. Wait, I'll jump out and investigate."

The speaker leaped out into the snow, and bent over the motionless form.

"By Jove! It isn't a tramp at all!" he burst out. "It's a well-dressed young man. Go back and get help. He's hurt on the head."

The young fellow remaining in the cutter at once did as directed, and returned with a negro and a white man.

Hal's body was lifted up, and he was carried to the road-house and placed on a lounge in the waiting-room.

Restoratives were applied, and presently Hal gave a gasp and sat up, the cords with which he had been bound having been cut.

"Where—where am I?" he asked, in bewilderment.

"You're safe indoors," was the reply. "What was the matter. How came you to be bound?"

"I was trapped, and a man was carrying me off in a coach."

"What! A regular abduction, eh?"

"Yes, sir."

"What's the matter? Did the fellow want to get your money?"

"No. I know too much, and he, or rather the men who employ him, want to get me out of the way."

"Humph! They ought to be locked up! We don't want any such work as that around New York City."

"Where am I?" asked Hal, again.

"You are at the half-way house on the Jerome Avenue road."

"How far is that from downtown?"

"Quite a few miles, young man."

"Which is the nearest way down?"

"There is a station on the New York Central & Hudson River Railroad not far from here. But there won't be a train down until half-past ten."

"And what time is it now?"

"Quarter past nine."

"Then I think I'll wait."

"You had better. That crack on the head is an ugly one."

"I must have gotten it when I jumped from the coach."

"It was a desperate leap. Who was the fellow who was carrying you off?"

"A tough from the east side."

"Maybe he'll be coming back looking for you."

"That's so," cried Hal. "Is there a police officer around?"

"I'll find out."

"Macy is down by the stable," put in a man present.

"Call him, please," said Hal.

The policeman was summoned, and to him and the proprietor of the place the youth told his story, omitting all details that were not necessary.

"We might follow him in one of the rigs here," said the policeman. "But it's more than likely he'll be back."

"Will you arrest him for me?"

"Sure."

A few minutes passed. Then the door opened, and the negro who had helped to pick Hal up came in.

"A feller wid an empty coach jess drove up," he said, somewhat excitedly.

"It must be Macklin!" exclaimed Hal. "Where is he?"

"Jess gitting ready ter cum in, I reckon, sah."

"We'll go down and meet him," said the policeman, and he led the way.

The door leading to the bar-room was partly of glass. Beaching it, the policeman pointed to a man standing at the bar, gulping down a glass of liquor.

"Is that the chap?" he asked.

Hal gave a look.

"Yes, that's Macklin. Don't let him get away!"

"No fear. I've dealt with many a tough customer, and I know how to handle them."

"I will step in first, and give him a surprise," said the youth, and he opened the door.

Macklin's back was turned at the time, and he did not see our hero until Hal tapped him on the shoulder.

"Well, Macklin, were you looking for me?"

The tough turned quickly. Then he grew pale, and the glass almost dropped from his hand.

"Wot—where——" he stammered.

"You didn't expect to meet me here, did you?" went on Hal, pleasantly.

"No—dat is—where did yer cum from?"

"From your coach, Macklin. I got tired of riding in such a cramped fashion."

The tough shifted uneasily. Hal beckoned to the policeman.

"Here, officer, is the rascal."

Macklin wheeled about, and gave the policeman a single glance, when, muttering something, he made a dash for the door.

But both Hal and the policeman were after him, and our hero caught him by the arm, and held him until the officer had slipped a pair of hand-cuffs onto him.

"I'll fix yer fer dis!" hissed Macklin in Hal's ear.

"Your days for fixing people are about over, Macklin," replied the youth. "You and the others have overreached yourselves for once."

"I didn't do nuthin'."

"We will see about that later. Where are Hardwick and Allen?"

"I don't know dem," replied the tough, sullenly.

"All right; then you want to take the whole responsibility of this matter on your own shoulders!"

At this the tough winced. It was putting the matter in a different light.

"Say, supposin' I put you on to dere game, will yer be easy wid me?"

"That depends on how much you have to tell," said Hal.

"I knows more dan da t'inks I do."

"About what?"

"About dem—never mind. I know wot you are after, an' don't fergit it!"

"The tin box?"

Macklin nodded

"Who has it, Hardwick or Allen?"

"I ain't sayin' anyt'ing."

"All right, officer, take him to the station-house, and I will go along and make a charge."

"No, no!" cried Macklin. "I wasn't goin ter do yer, I was only goin' ter take yer to an old house up der river, an' Hardwick and Allen was goin' ter settle wid yer in der mornin'."

"Where is the old house?"

"Der Flack mansion."

"I know the place," said the policeman. "It has been unoccupied for years."

"What time were they coming up?"

"Hardwick said at eight o'clock sharp," replied Macklin. He seemed anxious now to inform on his companions in villainy.

"Very well, we will see what happens at that time," returned Hal, briefly.

His words meant a good deal.



CHAPTER XXX.

THE MISSING TIN BOX.

Less than an hour later Macklin was taken to the police station in his own coach and locked up.

As soon as this was accomplished Hal lost no time in making his way to Horace Sumner's elegant mansion.

It was now quite late, and only a single light gleamed out from the mansion, and that from the library, where the old broker sat, busy with his accounts.

His face was furrowed with care, and just before Hal rang the bell he heaved a deep sigh.

"Unless the tin box containing the stolen bonds is recovered I will be a ruined man!" he groaned. "It is impossible to cover the loss. Allen has ruined me, and even though he tries to use those slips, and I have him arrested, it will do no good."

The ring at the bell aroused him, and, as the servants had retired, he answered the summons himself.

"What, Hal!" he cried. "You must have important news, or you would not come at this hour of the night."

"I have important news, Mr. Sumner," replied the youth. "And I came because I want your assistance the first thing in the morning."

"You shall have it, Hal. But what news do you bring? Come into the library and tell me."

The two passed into the sumptuously-furnished apartment, and, seated by the open grate fire, the youth told of all that had occurred since he had obtained employment at Allen & Parsons'.

"You have had several narrow escapes, my boy," cried the old broker, shuddering. "You must be more careful, really you must."

"I think we have about reached the end of the matter," returned Hal.

"Why, what do you mean? The tin box——"

"I have an idea Hardwick, Allen, and the others intend to come to some sort of a settlement to-morrow, either at the old house, or at the office in Broad Street. This Samuels is about to take some of the bonds to Chicago, and we must be on hand to stop the scheme."

"You are right, Hal, and mighty smart. What do you propose? You have done so well thus far I must really allow you to go on."

"I propose we go to the old house, accompanied by a couple of officers, and lay low for Hardwick and Allen. When they come I can appear before them with my hands and feet bound, and accuse them of the crime. They will not know that Macklin has been arrested—I have taken care of that—and they may give themselves away."

"A good plan. What rogues they are, and how blind I have been! Hal, I shall not forget all you have done for me."

A little more conversation ensued, and then the youth arose.

"Where are you going, now?"

"To the hotel to get some sleep."

"No need of going to the hotel. I will call up one of the servants, and she can show you to a room."

"You are very kind, Mr. Sumner——"

"It is nothing, Hal, in comparison to what you have done for me. I shall reward you well if the missing box is recovered."

Quarter of an hour later Hal was shown to a bedroom on the second floor. It was quite the finest apartment of the kind he had ever entered. The servant opened the bed and drew the curtains, and then retired.

"Gracious, this is style!" murmured the youth, as he began to disrobe. "I wonder if I will ever own anything as nice?"

On the walls were a number of steel engravings and etchings, and on the mantel rested a large photograph of a handsome, middle-aged lady.

Hal gazed at the portrait for fully five minutes. The features were so motherly they appealed to his heart.

"It must be a picture of the late Mrs. Sumner," he thought. "What a good woman she must have been! No wonder Mr. Sumner and Miss Laura miss her."

And then, as he thought of his own condition—that of a mere poor-house foundling—his eyes grew moist.

"How I wish I had known a mother, and that she was like her," was his soliloquy. "Or that I had a father like kind Mr. Sumner—and such a girl like Miss Laura for a sister," he added, suddenly, and then he blushed.

His mind presently turned back to the missing tin box, and thinking over this, he soon fell asleep.

He was up bright and early. When he went down to the library he found Laura Sumner there, and the old broker soon joined them.

A hasty breakfast was had, livened by the bright conversation of Laura, who was of a vivacious turn of mind, and then Mr. Sumner and Hal hurried off to police headquarters.

Their quest was soon explained to the officer in charge, and two men were detailed to accompany them to the old mansion up on the Jerome Avenue road.

It had stopped snowing, and the early morning sun made everything glisten. A large sleigh was procured, and one of the policemen and Hal mounted the box and off they drove.

It was twenty minutes to eight when the vicinity of the old Flack mansion was reached. The sleigh was driven around a bend and into a clump of trees, and then the party dismounted.

"I'll go ahead, and see if anybody is around," said Hal. "If it's all right I'll wave a handkerchief from one of the windows."

The youth was somewhat excited. Supposing Macklin had made up the story of the meeting between Hardwick and Allen? Such a thing was possible.

"But no, he wouldn't dare," thought Hal. "He is thoroughly scared, and wants to gain our good graces by giving the others away."

The deserted mansion was in a dilapidated condition. More than half the shutters were gone, and the front door stood wide open.

Sneaking up along an old hedge, Hal gained the half-tumbled-down piazza and glided swiftly into the hall, now more than quarter filled with snow, which the sharp wind had driven in.

"Certainly a cheerless place," he thought. "But I suppose they thought no one would come here, and so they would be free from interruption."

He entered the parlor of the house, and then walked through to the dining-room, the library, and then the kitchen. Nothing was disturbed, and the smooth snow, wherever it had drifted in, did not show the first sign of a footstep.

"Good! I am in plenty of time," said Hal to himself. "I must tramp around a bit, and then bind myself up as best I can."

He waved his handkerchief out of one of the windows and then proceeded to tie his feet together.

He had just finished the work, when Horace Sumner and two officers rushed in.

"They are coming!" exclaimed the old broker. "There are Allen, Hardwick, and two strangers."

"The strangers must be Parsons and Samuels," said Hal. "Here, bind my hands, and shove me into the closet, and then hide."

This was done, and less than a minute later a stamping was heard, and Allen, Hardwick, Parsons, and Samuels entered the parlor.

"Hullo, Macklin, where are you?" cried Hardwick.

Of course, there was no reply.

"Must have gone off to get his breakfast," said Allen. "Wonder what he did with the boy?"

"Boy!" cried Hardwick. "Better say man. Carson is altogether too smart to be called a boy."

"We must get him out of the way, and then finish this bond matter," went on Allen.

"Yes, and hurry up," put in Samuels. "I want to catch, the twelve o'clock train to Chicago, and you might as well give me the bonds to take along. The sooner they are worked off the better."

"That's an easy matter to settle," said Hardwick. "I have the tin box right here with me. I didn't dare leave it behind, for fear old Sumner might get a search warrant and go through my house."

As the ex-book-keeper spoke, he unbuttoned his great coat, and brought forth the missing tin box for which Hal and the others had been so long searching.



CHAPTER XXXI.

HARDWICK'S DASH FOR LIBERTY.

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.



CHAPTER XXXII.

A SURPRISING REVELATION.

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.

THE END