The Missing Tin Box: or, The Stolen Railroad Bonds

CHAPTER XXIII.
HAL'S BOLD SCHEME

Hal could not help but feel a keen interest in the conversation between Mr. Sumner and his daughter. Evidently there was some deep family sorrow behind the words that had been uttered.

He stood respectfully by until Laura turned to him suddenly.

"Excuse me, but I suppose I interrupted you when I came in."

"No, I had about finished," replied Hal. "You have no further instructions?" he continued, turning to Mr. Sumner.

"No, save that you must keep from trouble, Hal."

"I will keep my eyes open, sir."

"Then that is all."

"For the present, you will get along without me in the office, I hope."

"Yes. The new book-keeper is a very rapid man, and we shall not attempt to do anything more until Mr. Allen and I dissolve partnership."

"Then I will go. Good-day, Miss Sumner," and with a deep bow Hal withdrew.

"What a nice young man!" murmured Laura, as the outer door closed.

"He is little more than a boy, pet," said her father. "That mustache he wears is a false one."

"Why, papa?"

"He is playing a part. He is a very smart young man."

"I am glad to hear it. Where did you meet him?"

"It was he who saved my life the night I told you of."

"Indeed! That was grand of him. But, papa," Laura's voice grew serious, "these missing bonds – are they going – going to ruin you?"

Horace Sumner turned away.

"If they are not recovered, yes," he answered, in a low tone.

"My poor papa!"

"They are worth seventy-nine thousand dollars, and that, coupled with some bad investments made through Allen, will send me to the wall."

"Can nothing be done to get the bonds back?"

"I am doing everything I can. Besides Carson, there are two regular detectives from the department on the case, and a private man from the agency."

"Then all together ought to bring in a good result."

"We will hope for the best, Laura," said the old broker, bravely.

"If you do not recover the bonds, cannot you get outside help to tide over the crisis?"

"I could have done so years ago. But I find that I made a big mistake in going into partnership with Caleb Allen. While many are willing to help me individually, they do not trust Allen, and therefore will not now assist me."

"Is Mr. Allen, then, such a bad man?"

"I don't know how bad he is. He is in with Hardwick, so Carson says, and Hardwick is a villain."

At the mention of the ex-book-keeper's name, Laura drew herself up.

"I never liked him, papa, and I am glad to find that you have discovered his true character."

Horace Sumner looked in surprise at his daughter.

"Why, pet, I do not understand you."

"Then let me tell you something. For the past two months Mr. Hardwick has been paying his addresses to me, and – "

"Laura!"

"Yes, it's so. I did not mention it to you, because I did not wish to humiliate him. I told him there was no hope for him, and asked him to drop the matter."

"And has the villain done so?"

"Partly, but he frequently follows me about when he gets the chance, and I do not like it."

"If he does so in the future I'll cowhide him," cried Horace Sumner. "But I have discovered his true character, and sent him off, and in the future I imagine he will not dare approach you."

"If he does not, I will be thankful, papa."

Horace Sumner passed his hand over his brow, and heaved a deep sigh.

"Everything seems to go wrong of late years," he said. "The disappearance of little Howard has undermined my whole prosperity."

"And you have given up looking for him?" questioned Laura.

"Yes. What is the use? I have had detectives on the case for years, and it has cost me thousands of dollars."

"And they have learned nothing?"

"Nothing further than that a man took the child to Philadelphia."

"They could not trace him in that city?"

"No. The half-decomposed body of a man was found, a month later, in the Schuylkill River, and the detectives thought it must be his remains."

"But there was no child with him?"

"No, nor had the police seen anything of the little one."

"Howard must be dead," said Laura, softly, and her blue eyes filled with tears.

"I am afraid so," returned the father; and then the subject changed.

Meanwhile Hal had left the outer office and hurried up Nassau Street in the direction of Park Row. On a previous visit to this vicinity he had noticed a first-class costumer's establishment, where everything in the shape of a disguise could be bought.

At the door he hesitated for a moment, and then entered with a brisk step.

A fat, pleasant-looking man came to wait on him.

"I wish to obtain a perfect disguise," Hal explained. "Something for my face, besides some clothing."

"Yes, sir. What sort of a character?"

"A young business man."

"Please step this way."

Hal stepped to the rear of the establishment. Here fully half an hour was spent in selecting this thing and that, and trying the effect before the mirror.

At last the business was finished, and Hal came forth looking for all the world like a spruce clerk of twenty or twenty-two. He wore a silken mustache and small mutton-chop whiskers, and the color of his skin was several shades paler than was natural.

The cheap suit and overcoat he had worn were cast aside, and a nobby check outfit took their place.

"Gracious! I hardly know myself!" he murmured. "This ought to deceive almost anybody."

Hal had only rented the things. He was to pay two dollars a day for them, besides leaving a deposit of forty dollars for their safe return.

When this transaction was finished the youth visited a hardware store, and there bought a pistol and some cartridges.

"Now, I imagine I am ready for them," he said to himself. "Although I sincerely hope I will not have occasion to draw the pistol."

Once out on the sidewalk Hal did not know exactly how to proceed. He was about to take an elevated train to Allen's house uptown, when looking toward the entrance to the Brooklyn Bridge, he caught sight of Dick Ferris standing at the foot of the elevated railroad stairs, smoking his usual cigarette.

Hal approached him, and then passed by. Ferris looked at him, but not the faintest gleam of recognition passed over his features.

"He is deceived, at any rate," thought Hal. "I wonder if he is waiting for somebody, or merely hanging around? I think I will remain for a while and find out."

Hal crossed Park Row, and took up a stand by the railing to City Hall Park. A gang of men were clearing off the snow, and the street-cars and wagons were running in all directions, making the scene a lively one.

Presently an elevated train rolled in at the station, and in a moment a stream of people came down the stairs on both sides of the street.

Hal saw Ferris straighten up, and keep his eyes on the crowd.

"That settles it; he is looking for somebody," was Hal's mental conclusion. "Now, I'll wait and see if it isn't Hardwick."

The crowd passed by. Ferris had met no one, and he resumed his old stand, and puffed away as before.

Presently another train rolled in. Again Ferris watched out. In a moment he had halted a man wrapped up in an immense ulster, and with his hat pulled far down over his eyes.

Hal once more crossed the street. He passed Ferris, and saw that the man the tall boy had stopped was Caleb Allen.

Hal was surprised at this. He was under the impression that Allen used the Sixth Avenue elevated to come down from his home. Had the broker spent the night away from home, instead of going to that place after leaving the gambling den?

Standing not over fifteen feet away, Hal saw Ferris talk earnestly to Allen for fully five minutes. Then the broker put his hand in his vest pocket, and passed over several bank bills. This was followed by a small package from his overcoat pocket, which the tall boy quickly placed in his breast.

"I wonder what that package contains?" mused Hal, as the two separated.

Allen continued on the way downtown, calling a cab for that purpose. Hal felt certain the broker was going to the office, so there was no use of following him for the present.

He turned to Ferris and saw the tall youth stride up Park Row, and then turn into a side street.

"Is it possible he is going to see Macklin again?" was Hal's comment.

Such seemed to be Ferris' purpose, and it left Hal in perplexity as to whether he should follow or not.

Then he thought of his mission, and a bold plan came into his mind.

"I will follow," he said to himself. "The only way to get at the bottom of the tin box mystery is to learn of all the plans this band of evil-doers form."

CHAPTER XXIV.
HAL IN A NEW ROLE

Instead of continuing toward the East River, Dick Ferris soon turned northward and presently reached Grand Street.

This neighborhood was entirely new to Hal, and he was at once satisfied that the tall boy was not going to pay a visit to Tommy Macklin.

Passing down Grand Street, Ferris presently came to a tall, white building, with a large open hall-way, the entrance to which was covered on either side with signs.

Entering the hall-way, Ferris mounted the stairs to the third floor, and then passed to a small office in the rear.

Hal was not far behind, and he had no difficulty in locating the apartment Ferris entered.

The upper part of the office door contained a ground-glass panel, upon which was painted in black letters:

ROBERT E. HAMILTON,

Fine Law and Blank Printing

For a second Hal studied how to get into the place, but soon an idea struck him, and he lost no time in entering.

He saw Ferris in earnest conversation at a small counter, which ran across the office, which was narrow but quite deep. Hal edged up and listened to what passed between the tall youth and a man in charge.

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."