HAL EXPRESSED HIS OPINION.

The perspiration was standing out upon Mr. Sumner's forehead. He took out his handkerchief and mopped himself. Hardwick shot an angry glance at him.

"I don't see what you find so interesting in the boy," he muttered.

"I am interested in him because he saved my life."

"Saved your life?"

"Exactly. It is true that he came from the poor-house, but he is a young hero, and I will not have him imposed on, especially when he is doing his best to get along."

"Well, every one to his taste," returned Hardwick.

"I want none of your impudence," cried the broker. "You were not as much of a man as this boy when I took you in, eight years ago."

"Thanks," returned Hardwick, coolly. "Perhaps you would just as soon I would quit your service?"

"I would."

"Then I will quit on the first of the year."

"You will quit to-day, and without recommendations."

"Without recommendations!"

"Yes. Let me tell you something. All last evening and this morning early I spent the time examining your books. I find you have made false entries, how many I do not know, and that you are a defaulter in the sum of several thousands of dollars."

Hal was almost as much surprised at Mr. Sumner's statement as Hardwick.

"You—have—examined—the—books?" said the book-keeper, slowly.

"I have."

Hardwick breathed hard. It was a terrible blow Mr. Sumner had dealt him. He had supposed his little crooked actions in the office well hidden from prying eyes.

"You may have to prove what you say," he exclaimed, haughtily.

"I can easily do so," returned Mr. Sumner, coolly. "Shall I send for an officer to take charge of you in the meanwhile?"

At the mention of an officer, Hardwick grew white, and his lips trembled.

"N-no!" he cried. "There must be some mistake."

"There is no mistake whatever. Do you deny that you have appropriated the bank funds of the firm——"

"Mr. Allen gave me the right to——"

"Mr. Allen had no rights, as you are aware. Our partnership is a limited one, and I shall settle with Mr. Allen later."

"You can't hold me accountable for that money."

"I can, but I won't, for I imagine the greater part of it has been spent. How much have you in your pocket now?"

"Sir!"

"You heard my question; answer me."

"I will not! I'm no fool!"

"Very well. Hal, will you call a policeman?"

Hal started for the door. Hardwick caught him by the arm, and shoved him back.

"Stay here! There is my pocket-book."

"Hal, you may remain." Mr. Sumner took the pocket-book and counted the money in it. "A hundred and eighty dollars," he went on. "Have you any more with you?"

"No."

"Is that a genuine diamond you are wearing?"

"Yes."

"What is it worth?"

"It cost seventy-five dollars."

"Then listen to me; I have found out that you are a pretty high liver, Hardwick, and you have probably squandered nearly all of what you have stolen——"

"Look here, I——"

"Stop, or Hal shall go at once for the officer. Now, what I propose to do is this: I will keep this money and that pin and the one hundred and twenty-five dollars of salary coming to you and let the matter drop, so far as that crookedness in the books is concerned."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then Hal shall go for an officer, and you can stand trial."

Hardwick muttered something under his breath, not at all complimentary to his employer. He felt that he was in a tight place.

"There is no alternative?" he asked.

"None."

"And you will let this matter rest?"

"Yes. I wish to give you a chance to turn over a new leaf, if there is any turn over in you."

Hardwick hesitated for a moment.

"I accept," he said, doggedly.

"Very well, hand over the pin."

The diamond scarf pin was transferred to the broker's hand.

"Here is your pocket-book and ten dollars. I don't wish to see you go away without a cent."

"Keep the money; you might as well rob me of all of it," exclaimed Hardwick. He reached for his hat and coat. "You will rue this day, Horace Sumner; mark my word for it. And you, you young tramp!"—Hardwick turned to Hal—"I will get square, and don't you forget it."

He went out, slamming the door behind him. Hal watched him from the window, and saw him turn down Broad Street.

Mr. Sumner gave a long sigh.

"I am glad I am rid of that man," he said.

"So am I," responded Hal. "He is a worse villain than you think, Mr. Sumner."

The elderly broker smiled faintly.

"You still think him connected with the disappearance of the tin box, I suppose."

"I do."

"The police are almost certain they are on the right track of the criminal. I cannot give you the details, but the party is not Hardwick."

"The police don't know everything. Hardwick is thoroughly bad, and he is in league with Dick Ferris and Mr. Allen."

"You speak very positively, Hal."

"Because I know what I am speaking about, sir."

"You say Hardwick is in with Dick Ferris?"

"Yes, sir."

"How do you know?"

"Because they formed a plot to have me arrested. But that is not the worst of it. Hardwick made an attempt on my life because I followed him."

"Is it possible?" Mr. Sumner was now thoroughly interested. "Why did you not tell me of this before?"

"Because I wished to follow out the matter on my own hook, and, besides, I am almost a stranger to you, and you might think I was making up a yarn."

"No, Hal, I trust you thoroughly. I don't know why, but you have something about you that seems perfectly honest."

"Thank you." The youth was blushing. "I will never deceive you, Mr. Sumner, and you may depend on it."

"Tell me about this attempt on your life?" said the broker.

Standing by Mr. Sumner's desk, Hal related very nearly all that had occurred since his first appearance at the office. The broker listened with eager attention.

"You are right," he said, when Hal had concluded. "And apparently Ferris is as bad a villain as Hardwick. But how do you account for Mr. Allen being in with them?"

"On account of that conversation I overheard on the ferry-boat that night. They may try to explain it away as they please, I am convinced that they were talking of robbing your private safe."

"But Mr. Allen comes of very fine connections——" began the broker.

"That may be, but didn't you just say he didn't do just right?"

"So I did, and it is true. But that might be put down to a mere matter of sharp business practice, legally right if not morally so. But this other——"

And the elderly broker shook his head.

"If a man will cheat legally, I don't think he will stop at cheating any other way," replied Hal. "He may for a while, but his conscience soon gets blunted, and that's the end of it. You say the police think somebody else is guilty?"

"Yes."

"Do they think the thief came through the window?"

"Yes."

"That the man who came in while I was here had nothing to do with it?"

"That is their theory."

"But that doesn't explain one point."

"And what is that?"

"Why the marks on the window-sill, which are very plain and made by dirt and ashes, did not extend to the safe."

"Didn't they?"

"No."

"Humph! Who discovered that?"

"I did."

"When?"

"The day the two detectives were here."

"Did you say anything about it?"

"No, sir."

"Why not?"

"Because, as I said before, I wished to sift the matter myself, if I could. I know I am nothing but a boy, but I intend to do all I can toward getting back your bonds."

"Well, you are smart, Hal, there is no denying that. What is your opinion of the marks?"

"I think they were only a blind."

"Put there to form a wrong impression?"

"Exactly, sir. That robbery was committed by somebody who came in through the office, and who knew the combination of the safe."

"Possibly. But that doesn't fasten the crime on Hardwick."

"It does not. But I look at it in this light. As one of the detectives said, it is possible that somebody stood outside of the rear window and saw you work the combination, but I doubt very much if they could learn the process in that way. There is a glare of light on the window that renders it very difficult to see at all."

"Yes, but——"

"Now wait a moment, please," Hal was growing enthusiastic. "Do you keep the combination written down anywhere?"

"I do not. I gave it to my daughter, Laura, in case something happened to me, and I suppose she has it down, but I do not know."

"Then it isn't likely any one could get the combination unless they watched you?"

"I suppose not."

"Very well. Now, the only persons employed in the office were you, Mr. Allen, Hardwick, Ferris and myself. I know you and I are innocent. Now, who knew of the bonds being in the tin box?"

Mr. Sumner started.

"By Jove! I never thought of that!"

"Please answer me."

"We all knew of it."

"Did any outsider know?"

"I think not."

"Was the tin box locked?"

"Yes."

"After you placed the bonds in it no outsider heard of their being there?"

"Not unless the others told them."

"Which they would not likely do. Now, tell me, was anything else taken?"

"Not a thing."

"Not even placed out of position?"

"As far as I could see, no."

"Was there any trace of the tin box having been opened?"

Mr. Sumner shook his head.

"Doesn't it seem probable that if the thieves had not been certain of what was in the box they would have opened it, and if they were ordinary fellows that they would have taken something else of value?"

"Hal, you ought to be a detective!" cried the broker, in admiration of the body's logical reasoning.

"I tell you that robbery was committed by somebody who knew all about your private affairs, and was here to obtain the combination of your safe, and that somebody was either Hardwick, Mr. Allen, Ferris, or else the three of them."

HAL DEFENDS A GIRL.

Hal Carson's face glowed with earnestness as he spoke.

It was easy to see that he was fully convinced of the truth of what he had just said.

"It would seem as if you must be right," replied Mr. Sumner, after rather a long pause.

"You may depend on it I am, sir."

"But to think that of Allen!"

"Many a man in a high position has fallen before now. Did you ever inquire into his financial standing—that is, outside of your business relationships?"

"No."

"Then he may not be as well fixed as you think. Could he use the bonds, if he had them?"

"Yes. They were not registered, and there are several ways in which they might have been worked off."

"You are to dissolve partnership on New Year's Day, I believe?"

"Yes. I am not satisfied with the way matters are running, and I intend to run the place alone as I used to."

"Perhaps the dissolution may bring other matters to light, sir."

"Ha! I never thought of that."

"That is, if Mr. Allen doesn't wipe them out in the meantime."

Mr. Sumner jumped to his feet, and began to walk up and down nervously.

"I understand what you are driving at, Hal," he cried. "Where do you get such keen wit? I never saw your equal in a boy."

"I don't know, sir, unless it may be because I take such a strong personal interest in the matter—a thing that most detectives do not."

"It must be that I must have the books investigated by an expert; I am too old to go over them myself and do the work as it ought to be done."

"I think that would be best, but I would not let Mr. Allen know of it."

"I will not."

"Not even if you find he has been robbing you."

"What!"

"No."

"But he ought to be arrested——"

"Not until you have your bonds back, Mr. Sumner."

"I see."

"If you arrest him that won't bring your bonds back. I have a plan to propose, if you will let me carry it out."

"What is it?"

"That while I nominally remain here as clerk and office-boy you allow me to watch him, as well as Hardwick and Dick Ferris."

"You may get into trouble. See how Hardwick threatened you and attacked you in the dark."

"I am not afraid, sir."

"I would not have you go on such a mission for me and get hurt for all the bonds on the street."

"I would be very careful, sir."

"Well, supposing I let you do that, what would you do first?"

"That will depend on circumstances. Where is Mr. Allen now?"

"Gone to Philadelphia on business."

"For the firm?"

"No, for himself."

"Then you are not sure if he has gone there or not?"

"I only know what he said."

"When do you expect him back?"

"Not until to-morrow."

"Will you tell me where he lives?"

"On Fifty-third Street. The number is on the card over there."

Hal took it down.

"Is there anything special to do just now?"

"I must have those papers written up that Hardwick was at work on. The books I can write up myself."

"Then, with your permission, I'll write up the papers and then begin my hunt."

"Very well. But mind and keep out of trouble."

Hal smiled, and turned at once to the desk. A strange feeling filled his breast. He was really going to turn detective—he, a country boy, and that, too, in New York.

"It sounds like the wildest kind of a romance," he thought to himself. "But it isn't; it's sober truth, and I may find it a mighty hard truth before I get through."

He fairly flew at the work, and by two o'clock it was finished. He handed it to Mr. Sumner.

"That is excellent," said the broker, glancing over the written pages. "And now I suppose you are ready to go?"

"If you are willing, sir."

"There is nothing more to be done to-day. To-morrow I shall get a first-class book-keeper whom I happen to know, to take Hardwick's place."

In a minute more Hal was off. He knew not exactly in what direction to go, but thought he would cross Broadway and take the Sixth Avenue elevated cars to Fifty-third Street.

As he stepped on the sidewalk in front of Trinity Church, which stands at the beginning of Wall Street, he happened to glance up, and not far away saw Hardwick.

The ex-book-keeper was smoking a cigar and scowling. He did not see Hal, and the youth soon put himself where he was not likely to be seen.

Five minutes passed. Then Hardwick began to move slowly up Broadway, casting sharp glances to his right and left. Hal slowly followed, keeping several people between himself and the man he was shadowing.

At length Hardwick stopped at the corner of Cedar Street. Here he was joined by Dick Ferris, and the two at once began an animated conversation, which Hal managed to overhear.

"Got the bounce?" were the first words he heard. "Well, that's rich, Hardwick."

"I don't see the point," growled the ex-book-keeper. "I wish I had fixed the young tramp!"

"He seems to be worrying us pretty bad," said Ferris. "But, say, how about that money I was to have?"

"I can't give it to you now."

"Why not?"

"I haven't got it."

"Tell that to your grandmother!"

"It's a fact. Old Sumner made me fork over every cent I had about me."

"What for?"

"He claims I have been getting in on him."

"I'll bet he's right, too."

"Well, he isn't."

"No, of course not," returned Ferris, sarcastically. "A fellow who would——"

"Shut up, you monkey!" cried Hardwick, getting angry. "You know too much."

"Well, when am I to have that money?"

"To-morrow."

"Sure?"

"Yes. I'll get it for you."

"What will you do—bleed old Allen?"

"Never mind, I'll get it, and that's enough. By the way, I want you to do something for me."

"What is it?"

"Deliver a letter to Tommy Macklin. I have got an engagement to-night, and I want Tommy to get the letter before morning."

"All right. Hand it over. Where are you going now?"

"Home to get shaved and fixed up and have a nap. I was up all night, and I feel it."

"You're going it pretty strong."

"Don't preach, Dicky, my boy. For your age, I think you go it pretty well yourself."

Ferris laughed and stuffed the letter Hardwick handed him into his pocket. Then the two separated.

Hal pondered for a moment, and then concluded to follow Dick Ferris. Hardwick was going home, "I wish I knew what was in that letter," thought Hal, as he shadowed Ferris up Broadway to Park Row. "It may be something that has to do with the missing tin box."

Ferris passed the entrance to the Brooklyn Bridge, and then turned into a side street.

"I'll wager he's going to the same place Hardwick visited the other night," exclaimed Hal to himself.

With increased interest he followed Ferris, until the latter came to a narrow and dirty alley-way, piled high on one side with empty boxes and barrels.

Here a number of children were playing, some making snow-men and others coasting on home-made "bread-shovel" sleds.

Ferris tried to walk between them, and in doing so got directly in the way of a small sled upon which was seated a ragged girl not over ten years of age.

The sled brushed against Ferris' leg and angered him.

"What do you mean by doing that, you dirty thing?" he exclaimed. "Take that, and learn better manners."

He hauled off and struck the girl in the face. It was a heavy blow, and it caused her nose to bleed and her cheek to swell.

"You—you brute!" sobbed the girl.

"What's that?" howled Ferris. "A brute, am I? There's another for you!"

He stepped back to hit the girl again. But now there was a rush from the rear, and on the instant the bully found himself in the strong grasp of Hal Carson.

HAL ON THE WATCH.

"Let up there, you brute!"

Dick Ferris looked around with a startled air.

When he caught sight of Hal his face fell, and he released the girl.

"What, you!" he exclaimed.

"Exactly. What do you mean by treating this girl so rudely?"

"You are following me," went on Ferris, ignoring the question which had been put to him.

"What if I am?"

"You think you're smart, don't you?" sneered Ferris.

"He's a mean, ugly thing!" put in the girl, between her sobs. "I wish he was arrested."

"Shut up!" roared Ferris, turning to her. "You ran into me on purpose."

"I didn't. We've got a right to coast in this alley; mamma said so."

"You ought to be arrested for striking the little girl," said Hal. "I am awfully glad I arrived in the nick of time to save her from more punishment."

"Good fer you, mister!" cried a small youth standing near. "Give him one in der eye!"

"Yes, do him up, mister," cried several others.

Ferris turned upon them like a savage animal.

"Get out of here, every one of you," he howled, "unless you want to be hammered to death."

"Don't you move," said Hal. "You evidently have more right here than he has."

"Indeed!" said Ferris, turning to Hal. "I wish you would keep your nose out of my affairs."

"Don't let him sass you, mister," put in one of the urchins. "He didn't have no cause ter hit Katie."

Ferris pounced upon the boy at once, and cuffed him right and left. In the midst of the castication, however, Hal caught the bully by the arm, and a second later Dick Ferris measured his length in the gutter.

A shout went up from the boys and girls.

"Dat's der way ter do it!"

"Ain't der gent got muckle, dough?"

Then somebody threw a snow-ball, and in a trice the entire crowd were snow-balling Ferris as furiously as they could.

Hal looked on, and he was compelled to laugh. Then a sudden idea struck him. Like a flash he darted out of sight behind the pile of empty boxes and barrels.

Muttering something under his breath, Dick Ferris struggled to his feet. As soon as he did this the street children took to their legs, dragging their sleds after them. Ferris made after one or two of them, but was unable to effect a capture.

"Run off wid yerself!"

"We ain't got no use fer bullies!"

Spat!

A snow-ball took Ferris right in the ear, and caused him to utter a sharp cry of pain.

Then another took him in the face, and in trying to dodge he slipped and went into a snow-drift.

He was quickly on his feet, and this time ran after the crowd so fast that he caught one of the boys.

"Lemme go!" howled the youngster.

"Not much, you rat! Take that!"

Ferris struck the boy in the mouth, and the little fellow let out a yell.

Hal was just about to dart to his assistance when a policeman came along and touched Ferris on the shoulder.

"What's the trouble here?" he demanded.

Ferris turned savagely, but his manner changed when he beheld the officer of the law.

"This chap is a rascal," he explained.

"In what way?"

"He fired a snow-ball at me and hit me in the ear."

"I didn't," howled the urchin. "It was anudder fellow wot fired dat snow-ball."

And he began to cry bitterly.

"It was only done in fun, I suppose," said the officer.

"Fun!" fumed Ferris. "Look at my clothes!"

The officer did so. Ferris was covered with snow and dirt, principally the latter.

"The snow-ball couldn't have done that," said the policeman.

He was in sympathy with the small boy, whom he knew as the son of one of his friends.

"I know. But this boy and a lot of his chums got to throwing at me, and in trying to dodge I went down."

The policeman paused for a moment, and then turned to the urchin.

"See here, bubby, if I let you go will you promise not to throw any more snow-balls?"

"Yes, sir," came in one breath, and very eagerly.

"Then run."

"What! ain't you going to arrest him?" cried Dick Ferris, in some excitement.

"I think not."

"But he ought to be."

"I fancy I know my own business best," was the short reply.

"But he is a little imp, and——"

"Better let it go. I dare say you throw snow-balls yourself once in a while."

And with this remark the policeman moved on.

"Well, that's a fine way to treat a fellow," muttered Ferris to himself. "I suppose that policeman would let the whole ward pounce on me without doing anything toward helping me. I wonder where that Hal Carson is?"

The tall youth brushed off his clothing hastily, and returned to the entrance to the alley. He looked around carefully, but Hal kept well hidden.

Dick Ferris was undecided what to do. Should he deliver the letter intrusted to him by Hardwick? He hesitated and then continued up the alley-way, upon which a number of dirty, dingy tenement houses were situated.

Arriving at the very last of these, he ascended the front stoop and knocked loudly upon the door. There was no reply, and while he was waiting for some one to answer his summons, Hal managed to skulk up behind the other buildings and approach within hearing distance.

At last Ferris got tired of waiting, and he tried the door. It was unlocked, and, pushing it open, the tall boy entered.

Hal waited for a moment, and then, mounting the stoop, peered in at the door, which Ferris had left partly open.

As the youth had surmised, the hall-way was quite dark. He heard Ferris mounting the rickety stairs, and like a shadow he followed, fairly holding his breath, lest some sound might betray his presence.

Ferris mounted almost to the top of the tenement, and then hammered on a door in the rear.

"Come!" cried a voice from inside, and Ferris entered.

No sooner was the door closed than Hal approached it and applied his eye to the key-hole. He saw a small apartment, scantily furnished with a small cook-stove, a table, three chairs, and some kitchen utensils.

A man sat before the stove, smoking a short briar pipe. He was unshaved, but his face bore evidence of former gentility and manhood, in spite of the fact that it was now dissipated.

"Hullo, Ferris!" he exclaimed.

"How are you, Macklin?" returned the tall boy.

"Not very well, I can tell you," returned Macklin, removing his pipe and spitting into the stove. "I've got rheumatism, yer know."

"Rheumatism!" laughed Ferris. "More likely it's rumatism, Tommy."

"Don't give me any o' yer jokes, Ferris. Wot brings yer?"

"I've got a letter for you."

"From Hardwick?"

Ferris nodded.

"I thought I would hear from him before long. Hand it over."

Ferris did so. Macklin tore open the epistle and began to peruse it hastily. As he did so Ferris tried to glance over his shoulder.

"Here! none o' dat!" cried Macklin, savagely. "Wot's my business is my business."

He finished reading the letter and put it in his coat pocket. Then he pulled away on his pipe for a moment.

"Well?" said Ferris, by way of inquiry.

"Tell him it's all right if he doubles the figger."

"Makes the amount twice as large?"

"Dat's it. It's a ticklish piece o' business."

"What is the work, Macklin?" questioned Ferris, sitting down on the opposite side of the stove.

The man closed one eye.

"Hardwick knows," he replied, shortly.

"I know that," replied Ferris. "And I know something about this new deal, too."

"Wot do yer know?"

"Never mind. I know."

"Dat's all put on, Ferris; yer don't know a t'ing, see?" cried Macklin, with a laugh that sounded more like a croak.

Dick Ferris colored slightly.

"Hardwick said there was something new on," he explained, lamely.

"Yes, but he didn't tell yer wot it was."

Ferris arose, thinking that further attempts at pumping would be useless.

"Say, don't be in no hurry," went on Macklin. "Sit down an' git warmed up."

"I ain't cold."

Ferris started for the door, but the man pulled him back.

"How did yer make out wid Hardwick on dat last deal?" he asked.

"All right," responded the tall boy, hurriedly.

"Wot do you call all right?"

"That's my affair, Tommy."

"Don't git on yer high horse, Ferris."

"I can keep as mum as you can, Tommy, and don't you forget it."

"Did he give you more dan a hundred?"

"Is that what you got out of it?"

"Naw! I didn't git half o' dat."

"Hardwick is a close one."

"Dat's so. But some day he'll have ter pony up, yer see if he don't."

"I suppose it will be you who will squeeze him," said Ferris, with another laugh.

"You bet."

"He ought to be squeezed a little," said Ferris, reflectively. "He makes a small fortune alongside of what we get out of it."

"Yes, but der trouble is, yer can't corner him," responded Macklin. "If yer try, yer git yerself in trouble. But before long——" he did not finish in words, but bobbed his head vigorously.

"Where's your wife?" asked Ferris, glancing around.

"Der old woman's gone to der market."

"Ain't any one else here, is there?"

Ferris glanced around suspiciously. "No."

"Then supposing we come to an understanding?" went on Ferris, in a low tone. "We both do work for Hardwick, and we ought to get more money for it."

"Well?"

"Unless we get together we can't do anything. But when he finds we are both of a mind he may listen to us, and both of us will make by it."

Hal listened to every word of this conversation with deep interest. From it he discovered that Macklin was a tool of Hardwick as well as Ferris and both were in the habit of doing underhand work for the ex-book-keeper.

"If either of them would only mention something definite," he thought. "The tin box robbery for instance. Then I would be certain I was on the right track."

"That's an idea, Ferris," replied Macklin. "It ain't fair fer Hardwick ter be rollin' in money an' me livin' here."

"That's it."

"I uster be jest as fine a liver as him, Ferris, in the flush days. An' when old Sumner took Hardwick in an' bounced me——"

Macklin did not finish. There was a racket in the hall-way, and then came the tones of an excited Irishwoman.

"Phot's this? Phot be yez doin' here, young mon, sn'akin' along like a thafe? Tommy Macklin, cum here!"

NEAR TO DEATH.

The Irishwoman had come up behind Hal so softly—she wore rubbers—that the youth did not hear her, and he was, therefore, thoroughly startled when she made the exclamation quoted at the end of the preceding chapter.

Ferris and Macklin jumped to their feet and both rushed out in the hall.

"What's the row, Mary?" cried the latter.

"Sure an' that's phot Oi want to know," replied the woman. "Oi found this fellow pakin' in the kay-hole of your dure, so Oi did."

"It's Hal Carson!" exclaimed Ferris. "So this is the way you followed me, eh?" he continued.

"Who is Hal Carson?" asked Macklin, grasping the youth by the arm.

"Old Sumner's new clerk and office boy," replied Ferris. "Don't let him get away."

Macklin gave a whistle.

"Dat's kinder serious, if he follered yer here. Wot have yer got ter say fer yerself?" he demanded, turning to Hal.

"Let go of my arm," returned Hal. "Are you the only one who lives in this building?"

"No."

"Then I presume I have a right to enter the hall-way, haven't I?"

"That won't wash, Carson!" exclaimed Ferris. "You are doing nothing but following me, and you know it."

"Just you step inside, do you hear?" commanded Macklin. "That's all right, Mary, I'll take care o' him," he added to the woman.

"Oi wondher if he was up in me apartment," she said, suspiciously. "Oi'll go up an' see if there is anything missing."

The woman departed, and Macklin tried to shove Hal into the room.

"Stop that!" ordered the youth.

"Don't pay no attention to him," cried Ferris. "He's a regular spy, and he's trying his best to get us all into trouble."

Macklin caught Hal by the arm. The next instant Hal received a terrible blow behind the right ear that almost stunned him.

"Now I think yer will come in an' mind," howled Macklin. "Take hold o' him, Ferris."

The tall boy came out, and before Hal could recover he was dragged into the apartment and the door was closed and locked.

When he came to realize what had happened he found himself confronted by the angry pair.

"That's what you get for spying on us," said Ferris.

"Tain't no healthy business fer a feller ter be in around here," added Macklin, with a coarse laugh.

"I want you to open the door," returned Hal, as calmly as he could.

"That's right!" laughed Ferris. "I suppose you think you can command us to do anything, don't you?"

Hal walked toward the door and shook it. It was strongly built, and to break it down was out of the question.

"Give me the key," he said.

Another laugh followed this speech.

Hal glanced out of the window. It was tightly closed, and the distance to the court below was fully twenty feet.

The youth looked at Macklin, who had resumed his smoking.

"What do you propose to do with me?" he asked.

"That is hard ter tell," replied the tough. "It all depends on wot Ferris is got ter say."

"You have the key of the door?"

"I kinder think it's in my pocket."

"Give it to me."

Macklin chuckled.

"Don't waste yer breath; yer may need it."

He had hardly spoken when Hal sprang upon him. The youth was thoroughly aroused, and a well directed blow sent Macklin sprawling in one corner, while his pipe went flying in another.

The tough uttered a howl as he went down, and Ferris gave a cry of consternation.

"Now will you give me the key?" demanded Hal.

"Git orf of me!" spluttered Macklin.

"Let up there," put in Ferris.

"Stand back, Ferris," cried Hal. "I am not to be trifled with."

"Pull him orf!" roared Macklin.

Ferris advanced, but rather gingerly.

He knew Hal's strength, and he had a great horror of being struck.

Macklin tried to rise, but Hal hit once more and he went down a second time. Then Hal sat down on his body.

"Hand over the key."

Hal had an idea the key was in Macklin's outer pocket, and into this he inserted his hand.

It soon came in contact with what he was searching for. He tried to withdraw the key, but now Macklin began to squirm worse than ever, and he had hard work to master the fellow.

"Help me, Ferris!" howled the tough.

"Don't you dare come near," said Hal.

"Don't mind him—help me," said Macklin again.

Ferris hesitated, but at last approached and caught Hal by the arm.

"Let Macklin up," he said.

Instead of replying Hal sprang to his feet. In one hand he held the key, and with the other he shoved Ferris up against the wall.

"Now let me pass!"

"Don't do it!" howled Macklin.

"I won't," replied Ferris.

He caught Hal by the coat tail. This compelled the youth to turn once more. He aimed a blow at Ferris' head, and the fellow went down over the table.

Hal now thought he saw his way clear to escape. He bounded toward the door, and was just inserting the key into the lock when Macklin sprang up.

Beside the stove lay a heavy billet of wood, which the man had intended to split up for kindlings. Macklin caught up the stick, and jumping behind Hal, hit the youth a fearful blow directly on the top of the head.

With a low cry, Hal sank down in a heap. Macklin gave a sudden gasp, and Ferris straightened up.

"Have you—killed him?" asked Ferris in a tone, of horror.

"I don't know," replied the tough. "Dat was a kinder heavy crack, wasn't it?"

Ferris shuddered. A thin stream of blood was issuing from Hal's head, and this made the tall boy sick. He approached and gazed at Hal's pallid face and motionless form.

"I'm afraid you have killed him, Macklin," he said.

"Me killed him?" cried the tough. "I kinder think you had as much ter do wid it as me."

Ferris had a sudden chill dart down his back-bone at these words. If anything was wrong it was certain Macklin did not intend to shoulder the blame.

"What made you hit him so hard?" he asked.

"I couldn't help it. Let's see how bad he is."

Macklin approached Hal and turned over the limp body. Then he placed his hand over the youth's heart.

"He ain't dead yet. Dat was a hard crack, but he's got a strong constitution, dat feller has. Say?"

"Well?"

Macklin came up close to Dick Ferris, who was now as white as a sheet.

"We is good friends, Ferris, ain't we?"

"Ye-as."

"Den let me do sum'thin' fer yer."

"What is it?"

"I'll tell yer. Yer see der feller ain't——"

Macklin broke off short, as a footstep sounded in the hall-way.

"It's der old woman comin' back," he muttered.

"Your wife?"

"Yes."

"Oh, what shall we do with the—the body?" cried Ferris, in alarm.

As he spoke the door-knob was turned, and then came the tones of a woman's voice:

"Let me in, Tommy!"