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."
When Hal Carson locked himself into the closet of the club-room, he realized that he was in a perilous position.
Supposing somebody undertook to open the door? They might suppose it very strange to find the door locked, and think it necessary to open it, in which case he would be discovered in short order.
He remained perfectly quiet for a long while and heard Churchley admitted, and heard the man seat himself at the center table, and rustle the paper he was perusing.
Of the conversation carried on by Ferris and Hardwick, he heard nothing further, and he was, consequently, totally in the dark concerning the nefarious plot that had been formed to get him into serious trouble.
Ten minutes passed, and the youth began to wonder how long he would have to remain a self-made prisoner.
Then all became quiet in the room beyond, and he wondered if Churchley had not joined the two in the adjoining apartment.
He peered through the key-hole, but could see nothing but a portion of the wall opposite.
Growing bolder, he turned the key in the lock, and cautiously opened the door for the space of several inches. Looking out, he saw that Churchley still sat at the table, which was but a few feet away.
At that instant the man moved and gave a deep breath. Hal thought he intended to look around, and hastily closed the door once more.
The youth's movement was so quick that the door made a sharp sound as the catch clicked. This was followed by the sound made by the key in the lock as Hal once more imprisoned himself.
Hal almost held his breath as he heard Churchley jump up.
"Who's there?" called the man.
Hal made no reply.
Then Churchley came and tried the door.
"Hullo! the door's locked!"
At that moment Hardwick entered, followed by Ferris.
"Somebody in the closet?" cried Hardwick.
"There seems to be."
"Open the door."
"I can't. It's locked."
"Who is in there?" called the book-keeper.
Of course, Hal did not answer.
"Perhaps it was a rat," suggested Ferris.
"Might have been," grumbled Churchley. "I know there are plenty of them in the building, because I once ran across one in the hall-way."
"Where is the key?" asked Hardwick. "We'll soon find out."
"I don't know."
"It ought to be in the lock."
"Perhaps Jackson carted it off. He's an odd sort of a coon."
Hardwick looked around on the mantel and in several other places.
"It's gone."
He came over and shook the door.
"See if the key is on the inside of the lock," suggested Ferris.
At these words Hal put down his hand and felt to make sure that the key was turned to one side.
"I can't see anything," said Hardwick, after an examination.
"Then Jackson must have put it in his pocket," said Churchley.
"Perhaps it was nothing but a rat after all," said Ferris.
"I have half a mind to run up and ask Jackson," said Hardwick. "He lives right on the floor above."
"Oh, don't bother!" returned Churchley. "If it's a rat you may be sure he has gone back to his hole long ago."
A little more conversation followed, to which Hal listened intently, and then the youth heard Hardwick and Ferris go out.
Churchley continued to read the papers, and during that time the youth hardly dared to move for fear the man might re-commence his investigation.
But at the end of the hour Churchley gave a yawn and arose. Then two more men entered the room, and the trio adjourned to the other apartment.
Making sure that the coast was clear this time, Hal unlocked the door and let himself out. Then he locked the door again, and threw the key under the table.
"That will tend to stop suspicion," he reasoned. "And I must be sharp in dealing with these rascals."
He tiptoed his way to the door leading to the hall-way, and was soon outside.
Hardwick and Ferris had gone long before, and below all looked deserted. It was still snowing heavily, and Hal made up his mind that the best thing he could do would be to return to his boarding-house.
He was soon on the elevated train and riding downtown.
Happening to glance toward the other end of the car in which he was seated, he saw Dick Ferris sitting in the corner, apparently absorbed in thought.
"I'm glad I spotted him," thought Hal. "I must take care he does not see me."
East Tenth Street was soon reached. In making for the house Hal crossed over the street, and ran ahead. By this means he managed to get inside and up to his room before Dick Ferris put his key in the door.
To tell the truth, Hal did not sleep much that night. His mind seemed to be in a whirl. What was the plot Hardwick and Dick Ferris had hatched out against him?
He was up early on the following morning. At the breakfast table he had a pleasant word with Saunders, who was a clerk in a dry-goods store, and a pretty good sort of a fellow. Ferris did not appear, but this was not strange, as he had not been down early since his discharge from Sumner, Allen & Co.'s establishment.
Hal was the first to appear at the office in Wall Street. He opened up as usual, and after cleaning and dusting, began copying from the point at which he had left off on the previous day.
At quarter past nine Hardwick hurried in. The book-keeper's face was very red, but whether from the cold or from drink it was hard to determine.
Mr. Allen soon followed Hardwick, and the two entered into a low and earnest conversation in the rear. Hal did not dare to approach them, but he strained his ears to their utmost, and caught the words "he must be watched," and "the detectives will learn nothing," and these set him to thinking deeply.
Presently Mr. Sumner arrived. The elderly broker's face showed deep lines of care and anxiety. He had been up to the police headquarters to see if the detectives could give him any words of encouragement, but he had been disappointed.
"We shall have every one about your establishment watched, Mr. Sumner," the superintendent had said. "And I would advise you to go on with business as if nothing had happened."
And to this the elderly broker had agreed.
Hal watched Hardwick narrowly, and the book-keeper showed plainly that he did not appreciate the attention. Once he put his hand on Hal's arm and glared at him.
"What are you looking at me for?" he demanded, in a low tone, so that Mr. Sumner might not hear.
"Was I looking at you?" asked Hal, innocently.
"Yes, you were, and I don't like it."
Hal bowed, and turned away. Nevertheless, he still kept watch on the sly.
Presently, just before the time that Hardwick usually went out for lunch, he saw something which he thought rather odd, although of no great importance.
On a small shelf over one of the desks rested two new inkstands and several boxes of pens. Going to the desk, Hardwick pretended to be busy examining some papers. While thus engaged, Hal saw the book-keeper transfer the inkstands and the boxes of pens to his overcoat pocket.
"Now, what is he up to?" thought the youth.
Having transferred the articles to his clothes, Hardwick put down the papers and walked to where Mr. Sumner sat, busily engaged over his correspondence.
"Shall I go to lunch now, Mr. Sumner?" he asked.
The elderly broker glanced at the clock.
"Yes."
Hardwick at once went out, and presently Mr. Allen followed. Mr. Sumner continued to write for a minute, and then called Hal.
"You may mail these letters, and then get your lunch also," he said.
"Yes, sir," replied the youth.
Then he hesitated as he took up the letters.
"Well, what is it, Hal?" asked the broker.
"Nothing much, Mr. Sumner. I wished to ask you about those inkstands and the pens that were on the shelf over there."
"What of them? You may use whatever you find necessary."
"It isn't that, sir. I just saw Mr. Hardwick slip the things into his pocket."
"Indeed!" Mr. Sumner looked surprised. "Did he say what he intended to do with them?"
"No, sir."
"I will ask him when he comes in."
Hal hesitated.
"I wish you would not, Mr. Sumner," he said.
The elderly broker looked surprised.
"Why not?"
"Because I think Mr. Hardwick is hatching up some plot against me, and I wish to find out what it is."
"A plot?"
"Yes, sir. He is on friendly terms with Dick Ferris, your former office-boy, and both of them hate me."
"This is certainly news. I knew Hardwick did not like you because you suspected him, but I thought that had passed over."
"No, sir. He is down on me worse than ever, and I feel certain he is up to something to get me into trouble."
"And you think the inkstands and pens have something to do with the matter?"
"Yes, sir. Perhaps he'll say I stole them."
"I can't think Hardwick so bad," mused Mr. Sumner. "Why, if he would do that, he would steal the tin box."
Hal said nothing to this. He preferred to discover more than he had before making any revelation.
"You saw them this morning, didn't you?" went on the youth.
"Yes, I got a pen only ten minutes ago."
"Then you know I didn't take them."
"Yes."
"And you will keep silent—that is, for the present?"
"If you wish it, Hal."
And Mr. Sumner turned away and heaved a sigh. It is terrible to have around you somebody you cannot trust.
Five minutes later Hal went out to lunch—a light affair, as the youth had spent ten cents more than intended in following Hardwick the previous evening, and he knew he must be sparing of his capital.
He was just about returning to the office, when, chancing to glance up the street, he saw Hardwick and Ferris just separating at the corner.
He entered the office, and a minute later Hardwick followed. Neither spoke, and but little was said all the afternoon, excepting such as pertained to the business on hand.
Although his thoughts were busy on other matters, Hal paid strict attention to his work, and Mr. Sumner was well pleased with all the youth did.
"A good, manly fellow," he muttered to himself. "He could never have had anything to do with the robbery of the bonds. I would rather suspect my own son were he still alive. But poor Howard is gone."
Sudden tears sprang into the broker's eyes, which he as suddenly brushed away, afraid that some customer might drop in and see his weakness.
Hal did not leave the office until after four o'clock, there being a number of things to be written up before he could go. Hardwick had gone an hour before, and Hal did not know in what direction.
There being nothing else to do, Hal proceeded leisurely up to his boarding-house, never dreaming of the surprise in store for him. The streets were filled with snow, and he enjoyed the jingle of the sleigh-bells and the bustle of metropolitan life around him. Several times he was strongly tempted to follow the newsboys and bootblacks into the street and catch a ride.
When he entered Mrs. Ricket's house he found Saunders and several others already there. Dick Ferris was in the group in the front parlor, and at a glance Hal saw that something unusual was going on.
He nodded pleasantly, and was about to pass up the stairs when Mrs. Ricket called him back.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Mr. Saunders' room has been robbed!" burst out the woman.
"What!" exclaimed Hal. "Was there much taken?"
"A pair of cuff-buttons, a gold watch-chain and my pocket-book with fourteen dollars in it," replied Saunders.
"It's too bad," sobbed Mrs. Ricket. "I would not have had that happen in my house for a hundred dollars. I wonder who could have done it?"
Suddenly Dick Ferris pulled Saunders aside, and whispered something into his ear.
The dry-goods clerk looked astonished.
"You don't mean it!" he gasped.
"I do," replied Ferris.
Saunders advanced toward Hal.
"Were you in my room this morning after I left?" he asked, sharply.
"Me?" returned Hal, with a start. "No."
"Dick says you were, and he thinks you are the thief," continued Saunders.
Saunders was excited or he would not have spoken so hastily or so bluntly.
Hal grew very pale, and clenched his hands.
"You say I entered Mr. Saunders' room?" he demanded, turning to Ferris.
"I do," replied the tall boy.
He had hardly spoken, when Hal strode over with such a determined air that Ferris was forced to beat a retreat until he backed up against a side table.
"You know you are saying what isn't so," said Hal, in a low voice. "And I want you to take it back."
"I—I am telling the truth," stammered Ferris.
"It is false. It is more likely that you entered Mr. Saunders' room yourself."
"When did you see Carson enter my room?" put in the dry-goods clerk.
"Just as I was getting ready to come down."
"Why didn't you speak of it before?" asked Mrs. Ricket.
"I thought he had gone in to see Tom."
"There is not a word of truth in what he says, and he knows it," said Hal, calmly. "It is merely a scheme to get me into trouble because he does not like me."
"No scheme about it," blustered Ferris. "If I were you I'd search his room."
"If the stolen things are there, Ferris put them there," added Hal, quickly.
"Mean to say I'm a thief?" roared Ferris, turning red in the face.
"I do."
"Take care, or I'll give you a sound thrashing."
"Similar to the one you gave me the other day, I presume," replied Hal. "I am ready for you at any time."
"We don't want any fighting in the house," cried Mrs. Ricket. "This affair is bad enough without making it worse. Mr. Carson, do you object to me and Mr. Saunders going up to your room?"
"Not at all. Come on."
Hal led the way, followed by the others. Dick Ferris smiled darkly to himself as he came on behind.
"He'll find out he can't insult me for nothing," he muttered to himself.
The room reached, Hal threw open the door, and allowed Mrs. Ricket to pass him.
"You had better make the search," he said. "That will be fair all around."
"I will. Oh, what a trouble all this is." And crying softly to herself, the landlady began her investigation.
Nothing was found in the closet nor in the drawer of the table. Then Hal's meager possessions were hauled over, and still nothing came to light.
"Look in the bureau drawer," suggested Saunders, anxiously.
Mrs. Ricket did so. From the rear the woman brought forth a large flat box, rolled up in a newspaper.
The newspaper was cast aside, and the box opened. Out came a pair of cuff-buttons, a gold watch-chain, a flat pocket-book, two inkstands, and several boxes of pens.
The instant Hal saw the articles he understood the trick that had been practiced upon him.
Saunders gave a cry.
"Those are mine! Let me see if the money is safe." He opened the pocket-book. "Gone, every dollar of it!"
He turned upon Hal.
"Give me that fourteen dollars, or I will have you locked up at once!"
"Mr. Saunders, I never took these things," replied Hal, as calmly as he could.
"Yes, but——" the dry-goods clerk was so angry he could hardly speak.
"I know it looks black against me, but perhaps I can clear myself," went on the youth.
"Yes, you can," sneered Ferris. "Look here," he pointed to the inkstands and the pens. "Aunt Amanda, do you know who those things belong to?"
"Who?"
"They belong to Sumner, Allen & Co.," replied Ferris, triumphantly.
"You are sure?" asked Saunders.
"I am, unless Carson will stick out for it that the firm gave them to him," returned Ferris.
"Is that so?" questioned Mrs. Ricket.
"They were not given to me," replied Hal, promptly. "But I know who brought them into the house."
"Who?"
"Your nephew, Mrs. Ricket. I am sorry for you, but I am telling the truth."
"Dick a thief!"
"See here, do you know what you are saying?" blustered Ferris, taken aback by this statement.
"I do."
"I won't have you talking to me in this fashion."
"Then you had better own up to what you have done," replied Hal, calmly.
"How could I get the things?" demanded Ferris. "The firm knows they were there after I left."
"I know they do," returned Hal, significantly. "And they know more than that."
Dick Ferris grew almost white at these last words. He seemed about to say something in return, but suddenly changed his mind.
"Carson, this is a serious matter," said Saunders. "I hate to say much about it, but the stuff has been found here, and I don't see how I can do otherwise than look to you for that fourteen dollars."
"Mr. Saunders, I didn't take the things, and I don't know anything about your money."
"Easy enough to say, but——" and Saunders finished with a shrug of his shoulders.
"Of course, I can't prove what I say, but I can give you my word of honor that I am telling the truth."
"That's all very well, but it doesn't restore my money, which I can't afford to lose," replied Saunders, sharply.
Hal looked around in perplexity. What was he to do?
"I can't believe you guilty," said Mrs. Ricket. "But if you have the money you had better return it."
"Of course, he's got the money," put in Ferris, who had somewhat recovered from the effects of Hal's last words to him.
Hal picked up the newspaper which had been around the box and crumpled it nervously. Suddenly a peculiar look lit up his features.
"I guess I had better send for a policeman," said Saunders, after a moment of silence.
"Just wait a moment," said Hal.
"What for?"
"I wish to ask a few questions."
"Better see that he doesn't escape," suggested Ferris.
"Let that remark apply to Ferris as well as myself," said Hal.
Saunders walked to the door, and locked it, putting the key in his pocket.
"When did you miss your things?" asked Hal.
"About an hour ago."
"At five o'clock?"
"A little before. I got off early to visit my uncle in Nyack. But I can't go without my money."
"Were you home to dinner?"
"Yes."
"Did Dick Ferris come home?"
"No."
"When did your nephew come home?" asked Hal, turning to Mrs. Ricket.
"Don't answer him, aunt," cried Ferris. He was beginning to get alarmed again.
"What harm will it do?" questioned the woman. "If you are innocent, Dick, it won't matter."
"He wants to get me into trouble."
"Please answer my question," said Hal, decidedly.
"Dick came home about two o'clock."
"Has he been home ever since?"
"I believe so."
"Now, Mrs. Ricket, where were you all the afternoon?"
"Me?"
"Yes."
"I hope you don't suspect me!" cried the landlady, in alarm.
"No, I do not. But please answer me."
"After dinner I cleaned all the halls from top to bottom, and then saw to it that Katie cleaned the front stoop and the windows."
"Then you were in the halls and around the front door most of the time?"
"I was."
"Did I come in at any time during the afternoon?"
"I didn't see you?"
"Wouldn't you have seen me if I had?"
"I suppose I would," admitted the woman.
"What does all this talk amount to?" put in Ferris.
"Shut up!" cried Hal, sharply. "I am not addressing you."
He turned to Saunders.
"You hear what Mrs. Ricket says. I was not here to steal your things."
"Humph! They might have been stolen this morning!" exclaimed Ferris.
"Or last night," added Saunders. "The last I saw of the cuff-buttons was last night, and the pocket-book yesterday noon."
"I don't see how that can be possible," replied Hal, quietly.
"It's easy enough," exclaimed Ferris. "Just because I was home during the afternoon, and you were not, doesn't prove that you didn't take the things."
"No, that doesn't, but something else does," replied Hal.
"What?"
"This newspaper, which was wrapped around the box."
At these words Ferris grew white, and trembled from head to foot.
"What about the paper?" asked Saunders, curiously.
"It is an afternoon paper, dated to-day. It could not possibly have been put around the box before one o'clock this afternoon."
Every one in the room was surprised at Hal Carson's unexpected statement.
"Let me see the paper!" cried Saunders.
Hal handed it over, and the dry-goods clerk scanned it eagerly.
"You are right," he muttered, and shook his head.
"That can't be the same paper that was around the box," put in Dick Ferris, very red in the face.
"It certainly is," replied Hal.
"Yes, I saw Carson pick it up from the spot where I threw it," returned Saunders. "This puts a new face on the matter," he added, with a sharp look at Ferris.
Mrs. Ricket also looked at her nephew.
"Dick, come here," she commanded.
"What do you want?" he demanded, doggedly.
"I want you to return Mr. Saunders' fourteen dollars."
"I haven't got it."
"I know better."
"What, Aunt Amanda, are you going back on me, too?" cried Ferris, in a pretended reproachful tone.
"I tried to believe all along against my better judgment that you were innocent," said the landlady. "But I can't believe it any longer, and when you try to throw the blame on somebody who is innocent, I've got to speak my mind." Mrs. Ricket's voice began to grow stern. "Give up the money, and ask Mr. Saunders to forgive you before he sends for a policeman and has you arrested."
This was a long speech for Mrs. Ricket, and she almost gasped for breath after she had finished.
Dick Ferris' face grew black as he listened to the words.
"You're a nice aunt to me!" he stormed. "Just wait till I tell dad about it when he comes home next time."
But now Saunders had the fellow by the collar.
"Which is it, the money or the station-house?" he asked, shortly.
Dick Ferris looked into the determined black eyes, and then his courage oozed away.
"Will you promise not to do anything, if I give you fourteen dollars?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Then here you are." He brought forth his pocket-book, and took out a roll of bills. "I didn't take your money, but it's no fun to be hauled up."
"Why, Dick, where did you get so much money?" cried Mrs. Ricket, in amazement.
"I earned it," replied the fellow, coolly. "Here you are, Saunders. Now, unlock the door and let me out."
Saunders took the fourteen dollars, counted them over, and then did as requested. Without another word Ferris hurried out and down the stairs.
"I hope you are satisfied," said Hal, to the dry-goods clerk.
"I am sorry I suspected you," returned Saunders. "What a mean dog Ferris is."
"He is down on me because I am filling the position he was discharged from," explained Hal.
"Unless he takes a turn for the better I shall tell him to leave the house," cried Mrs. Ricket, trying to dry away her tears. "Ever since he came, two years ago, he has been a torment to me. I only keep him for my poor dead sister's sake."
"How about this stuff?" questioned Saunders, pointing to the inkstands and the boxes of pens.
"I shall return them to Sumner, Allen & Co."
"Queer how that boy got hold of those things," said Mrs. Ricket.
Hal pretended not to hear the remark, and a moment later Saunders and the landlady left the room.
"So that was the plot against me," muttered Hal, as he fixed up to go to supper. "I wonder what Hardwick will say when he hears how it turned out?"
The youth was compelled to smile to himself. The book-keeper would, no doubt, be very angry.
"It was lucky I looked at the newspaper," Hal went on. "It was that saved me, and nothing else. Ferris overreached himself. I wish I could gain such an important point in that bond matter. It would be a great feather in my cap to recover the tin box and its contents."
A little later Hal went down to supper. Ferris did not appear, and nothing was said about the recent happening upstairs.
"Please keep it quiet," whispered Mrs. Ricket to him, as he was about to leave the room. "It will only hurt my reputation to say anything."
The next morning, when Hal arrived at the office, he found Mr. Sumner already there. This was most unusual, and the youth could not help but show his surprise.
The elderly broker was pouring over the books, but as soon as Hal appeared he put them away.
Hal had the inkstands and the pens in his overcoat pocket, and he at once handed them over, much to Mr. Sumner's astonishment.
"Where did they come from?" he asked.
"I will explain later," replied Hal. "Please put them out of sight now, for Mr. Hardwick is coming, and I wish he wouldn't see them."
Mr. Sumner promptly swept the things into his desk, and began to write a letter.
When the book-keeper entered he was astonished to see Hal at work cleaning up. He had fully expected that the youth would be arrested for the robbery at Mrs. Ricket's, and that Hal was now in jail.
Then he looked back and saw Mr. Sumner at his desk, and his astonishment increased.
"Why, really, Mr. Sumner——" he began.
"I'm early this morning, eh?" returned the broker. "Well, I wanted to get this correspondence off my hands, and I seem to be able to do better work early in the morning."
"You are a hard worker," commented Hardwick, and that was all he said.
When Hal was dusting near the rear Mr. Sumner looked up to see that the book-keeper was not noticing, and then motioned to the youth.
"Don't say anything about my being at the books," whispered the broker, in a low tone.
Hal nodded; and then he went on as if nothing had been said. But the words set him to thinking deeply.
At the end of an hour Mr. Sumner arose.
"I am going out for a couple of hours," he said. "If Mr. Allen comes in tell him to let that Wabash matter rest until to-morrow."
"I will," replied Hardwick.
"You may continue on that copying, Carson," went on the broker. "Mr. Hardwick will direct you."
"Yes, sir," replied the youth.
Mr. Sumner quitted the place, and hurried up the street.
Dick Ferris stood on the opposite side near the corner. He then waved his hand to Hardwick.
The book-keeper at once put on his hat and coat, and went out. Hal did not see the man join Ferris.
Hal did his best to concentrate his thoughts upon his work, but found it almost impossible to do so.
A half-hour dragged by slowly.
Then the door burst open, and Hardwick rushed in. He was pale and terribly excited. Rushing up to Hal he caught the youth roughly by the arm.
"See here, I want to have a talk with you!" he cried.
"What about?" asked Hal, as coolly as he could.
"You know well enough, you miserable sneak!" hissed Hardwick. "Tell me at once all you know."
"Know about what?" asked Hal, trying to stand his ground.
Hardwick glared at him for an instant. He seemed to be in a fearful rage. Suddenly he caught Hal by the throat with one hand, and picked up a heavy brass-bound ruler with the other.
"Now, Carson, are you going to speak up or not?" he demanded.
Hal understood perfectly well that a crisis had come. Hardwick had him by the throat, and unless he acceded to the book-keeper's demand he would be in immediate danger of being choked to death.
"Let—let go of me," he gasped.
"Not until you do as I say," replied Hardwick. "I want you to understand that you can't get the best of me."
Hal tried to push Hardwick away, but the book-keeper made a pass at him with the heavy ruler.
"Keep quiet, if you value your head!" roared Hardwick.
"Let me go!"
"Not until you have told me what you mean by your doings."
"What doings?"
"Your doings up to Mrs. Ricket's."
"Who told you about what happened up there?"
"Never mind; I know all about it."
"Then Ferris saw you last night."
"No, he didn't."
"Or this morning."
"Shut up. You implicated me."
"Did Dick Ferris say I did?" asked Hal.
"Never mind who said so. I want to know what you mean by such work?"
Hal did not reply. He was trying to think. What was Ferris' object in telling Hardwick he had been mentioned in connection with the matter?
Clearly there could be but one reason. Ferris knew Hardwick already disliked Hal, and he wished to put the book-keeper against the youth, so as to get Hal into more difficulties.
"Do you hear me?" demanded Hardwick, giving Hal an extra squeeze on the throat.
"I do," gulped Hal. "Let—go—of me."
"Not until you have answered."
Hal commenced to struggle. Seeing this, Hardwick tried to strike him with the ruler, which, on account of its brass-bound edge, was an ugly weapon. The ruler came down twice, the second time cutting a gash on the youth's neck, from which the blood flowed copiously.
This last blow aroused all the lion in Hal's nature. As the reader knows, he was a well-built boy, and strong for his age. He gave a sudden wrench and broke away.
"Stand back!" he cried. "Don't you dare to touch me again!"
Hardwick glanced toward the door, to see that no one was coming.
"I'll show you!" he hissed, passionately.
He rushed at Hal again. The youth saw him coming, and, drawing back his arm, he planted a blow on Hardwick's nose that sent the blood spurting in all directions.
Hardwick was more surprised than hurt. Had that poor house chap dared to hit him? He turned first red and then white.
"I'll fix you!" he cried.
"Stand back, I tell you!" commanded Hal; he was getting excited himself.
But Hardwick would not stand back, and, as a consequence, he received a blow on the forehead that almost stunned him.
"You beggar, you've got muscle, haven't you?" he cried. "We'll try a different method with you."
He ran toward his desk, and opened it. An instant later Hal saw a revolver in his hand.
"Now we will see who is on top here," said Hardwick.
It would be useless to deny that Hal was frightened at the sight of the shining barrel. He backed several feet.
"I thought that would bring you to terms," said Hardwick. "Now, will you answer my question?"
"You will not dare to shoot me," returned the youth, as calmly as he could.
"Don't be too sure. I intend that you shall answer me."
Hal looked about him. He had backed toward the rear of the office. The window was unlocked. Could he leap through it?
Hardwick followed the youth's look and understood it.
"No, you don't," he said, and, moving toward the window, he locked it.
The only way that now remained to escape was by the street door. Hardwick placed himself in front of this.
"Give me the key to this door," he demanded.
The key hung on a nail close to where Hal was standing.
Instead of complying, Hal took down the key, and placed it in his pocket.
"Did you hear me?" went on the book-keeper.
"I did."
"You are playing with fire, young man."
"Am I?"
"You are. You think I haven't nerve enough to go ahead, but you'll find out your mistake. I'll give you just ten seconds in which to hand me that key."
Hal made no reply.
"Did you hear?"
"I did."
"Are you going to mind?"
"No."
Hardwick aimed the pistol at Hal's head. Whether or not he would have fired cannot be told, for at that instant the door opened, and Mr. Sumner stepped in.
"I forgot my——" he began, and then stopped short in amazement.
"Mr. Sumner!" cried Hal. "I am glad you have come."
"What is the meaning of this?" gasped the elderly broker.
He looked at Hardwick and then at the pistol.
The book-keeper dropped back, unable for the moment to say a word.
"He intended to shoot me," said Hal.
"That is a falsehood!" exclaimed Hardwick.
"It's the truth," retorted the youth.
"No such thing! The young tramp pulled this pistol, and I just snatched it away from him."
Hal was amazed at this deliberate falsehood. Mr. Sumner turned to him.
"Did you have that pistol first?" he asked.
"No, sir."
"I say he did," put in Hardwick.
"I never owned a pistol," added Hal.
"Then he must have stolen it," sneered Hardwick. "I tell you, Mr. Sumner, he is a bad egg, and he ought to be discharged."
"Perhaps," responded the elderly broker, dryly. "Just hand the weapon to me."
Hardwick did so, and Mr. Sumner examined it.
"Do you carry such a weapon?" he asked, shortly.
"No, sir."
"Don't own one, I presume?"
"I must say I do not."
"Humph! So you say Carson drew it on you?"
"He did."
"Mr. Sumner——" began Hal.
"Stop, Carson, until I get through with Mr. Hardwick. What was the cause of this quarrel?"
"The boy got impudent, and I threatened to report him and have him discharged."
"Is that all?"
"Yes. He is an unmannerly dog."
"I didn't think so when I hired him."
"He is, Mr. Sumner."
The elderly broker examined the pistol again.
"I wish you would explain one thing to me, Mr. Hardwick," he said slowly.