The Missing Tin Box: or, The Stolen Railroad Bonds

"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.

CHAPTER VII.

HAL DETERMINES TO INVESTIGATE

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.

CHAPTER VIII.

FELIX HARDWICK IS ASTONISHED

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?"