The Missing Tin Box: or, The Stolen Railroad Bonds

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?"

"Yes."

"Impossible!"

"Why should it be!" asked Ferris.

Hardwick did not reply.

"I was right," thought Hal, with a shudder. "He threw those bricks on me, and thought I was either dead or next door to it. He is a thorough villain, and no mistake."

"Why shouldn't I see Carson at the house?" went on Ferris.

"Why – I thought he wasn't going home till late," stammered Hardwick.

"Did he say so?"

"I believe he said something about it. I didn't pay much attention." Hardwick was beginning to recover from his shock. "So you saw him?"

"Yes."

"You two don't get along very well, do you?"

"I'd like to thrash him," growled Ferris.

"Why?"

Hal did not hear the reply. The two passed into a room on the third floor, and the door was closed behind them.

For an instant the youth hesitated. Then he mounted to the door and applied his eye to the key-hole.

There was a brilliant light inside, but no one appeared to be present.

Having satisfied himself on this point, Hal tried the knob of the door.

It turned, and he pushed the door open cautiously. He knew he was treading on dangerous ground and was running a great risk. Yet a strange courage seemed to have come over him, and he was not one bit nervous.

Once inside the room, he saw that it was a club apartment. Papers were scattered over the table, and cards and other games rested on a side stand.

To the left was another door, having a curtain strung over it.

From beyond the curtain came the voices of Hardwick and Ferris, and Hal knew they had seated themselves and were taking it easy.

Approaching the outer door he locked it.

"Now I cannot be surprised in that direction," he thought. "And if Hardwick or Ferris try to leave I can hide in the closet."

Having made these preparations against being discovered, Hal approached the curtain to listen to whatever might be said.

"You say you wish you could fix Carson?" he heard Hardwick say.

"I do," returned Ferris. "I hate him, and I would do almost anything to get square."

"Then I'll tell you of a little plan that you can work, Dick. I don't like the fellow myself, and it will delight me to see you get the best of him."

"How does the beggar do the office work?"

"I must say first class."

"Humph! It didn't suit me, Hardwick. If there hadn't been other money – "

"Hush!" cried the book-keeper, in alarm. "That matter must remain a secret, never to be mentioned."

CHAPTER IX.
THE PLOT AGAINST HAL

Hal Carson was sure that he had just missed a most important statement.

"I wish Ferris had finished what he intended to say," he thought.

He waited breathlessly for the two to go on.

"What makes you so scared?" asked Ferris. "Can anybody hear us here?"

"I think not. Still we want to be careful."

"Yes, but – "

"Not another word on that point, Dick." Hardwick's voice grew stern. "I am a man, while you are a boy, and I know what is best for both of us."

"Well, have your own way."

"I think it will be a wise plan for you to get Carson out of the way. He is altogether too smart a fellow to have around," continued the book-keeper.

"I don't think he looks very smart," sneered Ferris, who could not stand hearing Hal praised.

"He's smarter than you or most people think. That yarn about his being brought up in the poor-house may be true, but I have my doubts."

"Why?" asked Ferris, in high curiosity.

"I can't explain now." There was a brief pause. "Here, take a cigar. Those nasty cigarettes make me sick."

There was the striking of matches, and then another pause.

"Are you going to continue as book-keeper when Allen leaves?" asked Ferris.

"Certainly."

"I thought you were to go with Allen in his new venture."

"I will – later on."

"Has he made any definite plans yet?"

"No."

"The reason I asked is because I want you to put in a word for me."

Hardwick laughed.

"Dick, you are getting to be a pretty big boy."

"Didn't I do what you wished of me?" demanded Ferris.

"I must say you did."

"Then you ought to be willing – "

"All right, it shall be as you say."

At this instant came a heavy hand on the door-knob outside.

"Who's that?" cried Ferris.

"Must be Churchley or Wister," replied Hardwick.

As the door was locked, the person outside began to knock.

"I must have locked the door," added the book-keeper. "Wait till I open it."

As soon as the noise outside reached his ears, Hal made for the closet, which stood in one corner of the room. He found the door unlocked, and the interior empty, save for a broom and a duster and several similar things.

He entered the closet, transferring the key to the inside as he did so, and locked the door behind him.

A second later Hardwick entered from the inner room, and opened the door leading to the hall.

"Hullo, Churchley!" Hal heard him exclaim.

"How are you, Hardwick?" returned the new-comer. "Locked me out, did you?"

"I must have turned the key without thinking," replied the book-keeper.

"All alone?"

"No, there is a young fellow with me."

"Who?"

"Ferris."

"Don't know him."

"I just brought him around to show him the place, and have a quiet smoke. He is in the other room."

"Then don't let me disturb you," replied Churchley. "I just want to look over the news-papers and find out how that prize-fight over in Hoboken came off."

Hal heard the man drop into a seat by the table, and after a few more words concerning the prize-fight Churchley had mentioned, Hardwick rejoined Ferris in the other apartment.

"Who is it?" asked Ferris.

"A man named Churchley," replied Hardwick, in a low tone, so that he might not be overheard.

"One of the club members?"

"Yes."

"Will he overhear us?"

"I guess not. He is reading about the prize-fight, and when Churchley gets on to anything of that kind he gets completely absorbed."

"Then we can go on with our talk?"

"Yes, but not too loud."

"I want to know about this plan against Carson," said Ferris, in a whisper.

"Are you willing to go in against him?"

"Didn't I say I was?"

"But I mean seriously?"

Ferris changed color.

"Of course I don't want to kill him," he faltered.

"I understand. But you are willing to get him into serious trouble."

"I am."

"Then listen to me. Can you get into his room at your aunt's house?"

"I think I can."

"I mean without being seen."

"I have the whole run of the place."

"Then supposing somethings belonging to the others were found in Carson's trunk – "

"He has no trunk," interrupted Ferris.

"So much the better, for you can merely hide the stuff in among his things."

"Do you mean for me to take them?"

"Some of them."

"Some of them?" questioned Ferris.

"Yes, those from your aunt's boarders. At the same time I will give you several articles belonging to the office that you can place with the others. Is there any one of the boarders you know well?"

"I know Saunders pretty well."

"Then let Saunders lose most of the stuff, and put a flea in his ear to the effect that you think Carson is the guilty party. This will cause the fellow's room to be searched and the stuff will be found. You must be on hand to identify the office stuff; see?"

"I do."

"Carson will be arrested, and you will have your revenge."

"That's a boss plan!" exclaimed Ferris. "When will you furnish me with stuff from the office?"

"To-morrow noon, if you will meet me at the corner of Wall and Nassau."

"I'll be on hand. It made me sick the way my aunt stuck up for Carson. Of course, I wouldn't go into the thing, only I know the tramp's a bad egg," returned Ferris, trying to excuse his willingness to enter into such an outrageous plot.

"Of course he is a bad egg, and it is our duty to get him out of the way," replied Hardwick. "You will be on hand sure to-morrow?"

"Yes."

"And when will you put the things in his room?"

"Sometime during the afternoon. That will bring matters to a head as soon as Saunders and the others get home."

"You must expose Carson while he is in his room, if possible."

"Oh, he'll be home with the rest."

"Then that's all right. Of course, there is no necessity to caution you to be careful."

"Wasn't I careful before?"

"Hush!"

"Then don't talk that way. Say, do you know these cigars are mighty strong?"

Hardwick laughed.

"That's because you are not used to them, Dick. Now, I generally smoke them twice as strong."

Just at this instant, the two heard Churchley jump to his feet.

"Who's there?" he demanded.

"What's the matter with Churchley?" said Hardwick.

"He's talking to somebody," replied Ferris.

"Hullo! the door's locked," they heard Churchley continue.

"What's up, Churchley?" called out Hardwick, walking toward the other room.

"There is somebody in this closet," was the startling reply. "I heard a noise half a dozen times."