The Missing Tin Box: or, The Stolen Railroad Bonds

"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."