When Hal came to his senses he found himself bound and gagged as before, but instead of being in a closet he was now in a coach that was whirling along as fast as the deep snow would permit.
The curtains of the vehicle were tightly drawn, so the youth had no chance of seeing where he was being taken.
His head ached fearfully from the blow Tommy Macklin had administered, and for several minutes he could hardly collect himself.
"Missed it!" he groaned to himself. "And now those villains have me completely in their power."
It was not a pleasant thought, and therefore Hal did not allow his mind to dwell upon it.
He wondered if he could get open one of the doors of the coach, and leap, or rather tumble, to the ground. It would be a dangerous experiment, considering how he was tied up, but Hal was willing to assume desperate risks just now.
He fumbled around with his bound hands for fully five minutes, and at last succeeded in turning the handle to one of the coach doors, which immediately swung open.
Hal looked out. They were on an almost deserted road. It was quite dark, and still snowing.
"If I drop out here I may be frozen to death before I can free myself," he thought. "I will wait until we pass a house of some sort."
Hal had hardly reached this conclusion before the coach rolled past an elegant road-house, brilliantly illuminated from top to bottom.
"Now is my chance," he thought. "There ought to be somebody around to pick me up."
Losing no time, for they had now passed several rods beyond the road-house, the plucky boy wriggled his body toward the open door of the coach.
Watching for what he thought a favorable opportunity, Hal gave himself a lurch forward and tumbled out into the snow. But as he did so one of the rear wheels of the coach struck him on the side of the head, and the blow rendered him unconscious.
His body lay where it had fallen for several minutes. Then two young men in a cutter came driving from the road-house.
"Hullo, Ike, what's that?" cried one of them, pulling up.
"Looks like a tramp in the snow," replied the other. "Let's drive out of the way."
"We can't leave him here. He'll be frozen to death."
"By Jove, Will, you're right. Wait, I'll jump out and investigate."
The speaker leaped out into the snow, and bent over the motionless form.
"By Jove! It isn't a tramp at all!" he burst out. "It's a well-dressed young man. Go back and get help. He's hurt on the head."
The young fellow remaining in the cutter at once did as directed, and returned with a negro and a white man.
Hal's body was lifted up, and he was carried to the road-house and placed on a lounge in the waiting-room.
Restoratives were applied, and presently Hal gave a gasp and sat up, the cords with which he had been bound having been cut.
"Where—where am I?" he asked, in bewilderment.
"You're safe indoors," was the reply. "What was the matter. How came you to be bound?"
"I was trapped, and a man was carrying me off in a coach."
"What! A regular abduction, eh?"
"Yes, sir."
"What's the matter? Did the fellow want to get your money?"
"No. I know too much, and he, or rather the men who employ him, want to get me out of the way."
"Humph! They ought to be locked up! We don't want any such work as that around New York City."
"Where am I?" asked Hal, again.
"You are at the half-way house on the Jerome Avenue road."
"How far is that from downtown?"
"Quite a few miles, young man."
"Which is the nearest way down?"
"There is a station on the New York Central & Hudson River Railroad not far from here. But there won't be a train down until half-past ten."
"And what time is it now?"
"Quarter past nine."
"Then I think I'll wait."
"You had better. That crack on the head is an ugly one."
"I must have gotten it when I jumped from the coach."
"It was a desperate leap. Who was the fellow who was carrying you off?"
"A tough from the east side."
"Maybe he'll be coming back looking for you."
"That's so," cried Hal. "Is there a police officer around?"
"I'll find out."
"Macy is down by the stable," put in a man present.
"Call him, please," said Hal.
The policeman was summoned, and to him and the proprietor of the place the youth told his story, omitting all details that were not necessary.
"We might follow him in one of the rigs here," said the policeman. "But it's more than likely he'll be back."
"Will you arrest him for me?"
"Sure."
A few minutes passed. Then the door opened, and the negro who had helped to pick Hal up came in.
"A feller wid an empty coach jess drove up," he said, somewhat excitedly.
"It must be Macklin!" exclaimed Hal. "Where is he?"
"Jess gitting ready ter cum in, I reckon, sah."
"We'll go down and meet him," said the policeman, and he led the way.
The door leading to the bar-room was partly of glass. Beaching it, the policeman pointed to a man standing at the bar, gulping down a glass of liquor.
"Is that the chap?" he asked.
Hal gave a look.
"Yes, that's Macklin. Don't let him get away!"
"No fear. I've dealt with many a tough customer, and I know how to handle them."
"I will step in first, and give him a surprise," said the youth, and he opened the door.
Macklin's back was turned at the time, and he did not see our hero until Hal tapped him on the shoulder.
"Well, Macklin, were you looking for me?"
The tough turned quickly. Then he grew pale, and the glass almost dropped from his hand.
"Wot—where——" he stammered.
"You didn't expect to meet me here, did you?" went on Hal, pleasantly.
"No—dat is—where did yer cum from?"
"From your coach, Macklin. I got tired of riding in such a cramped fashion."
The tough shifted uneasily. Hal beckoned to the policeman.
"Here, officer, is the rascal."
Macklin wheeled about, and gave the policeman a single glance, when, muttering something, he made a dash for the door.
But both Hal and the policeman were after him, and our hero caught him by the arm, and held him until the officer had slipped a pair of hand-cuffs onto him.
"I'll fix yer fer dis!" hissed Macklin in Hal's ear.
"Your days for fixing people are about over, Macklin," replied the youth. "You and the others have overreached yourselves for once."
"I didn't do nuthin'."
"We will see about that later. Where are Hardwick and Allen?"
"I don't know dem," replied the tough, sullenly.
"All right; then you want to take the whole responsibility of this matter on your own shoulders!"
At this the tough winced. It was putting the matter in a different light.
"Say, supposin' I put you on to dere game, will yer be easy wid me?"
"That depends on how much you have to tell," said Hal.
"I knows more dan da t'inks I do."
"About what?"
"About dem—never mind. I know wot you are after, an' don't fergit it!"
"The tin box?"
Macklin nodded
"Who has it, Hardwick or Allen?"
"I ain't sayin' anyt'ing."
"All right, officer, take him to the station-house, and I will go along and make a charge."
"No, no!" cried Macklin. "I wasn't goin ter do yer, I was only goin' ter take yer to an old house up der river, an' Hardwick and Allen was goin' ter settle wid yer in der mornin'."
"Where is the old house?"
"Der Flack mansion."
"I know the place," said the policeman. "It has been unoccupied for years."
"What time were they coming up?"
"Hardwick said at eight o'clock sharp," replied Macklin. He seemed anxious now to inform on his companions in villainy.
"Very well, we will see what happens at that time," returned Hal, briefly.
His words meant a good deal.
Less than an hour later Macklin was taken to the police station in his own coach and locked up.
As soon as this was accomplished Hal lost no time in making his way to Horace Sumner's elegant mansion.
It was now quite late, and only a single light gleamed out from the mansion, and that from the library, where the old broker sat, busy with his accounts.
His face was furrowed with care, and just before Hal rang the bell he heaved a deep sigh.
"Unless the tin box containing the stolen bonds is recovered I will be a ruined man!" he groaned. "It is impossible to cover the loss. Allen has ruined me, and even though he tries to use those slips, and I have him arrested, it will do no good."
The ring at the bell aroused him, and, as the servants had retired, he answered the summons himself.
"What, Hal!" he cried. "You must have important news, or you would not come at this hour of the night."
"I have important news, Mr. Sumner," replied the youth. "And I came because I want your assistance the first thing in the morning."
"You shall have it, Hal. But what news do you bring? Come into the library and tell me."
The two passed into the sumptuously-furnished apartment, and, seated by the open grate fire, the youth told of all that had occurred since he had obtained employment at Allen & Parsons'.
"You have had several narrow escapes, my boy," cried the old broker, shuddering. "You must be more careful, really you must."
"I think we have about reached the end of the matter," returned Hal.
"Why, what do you mean? The tin box——"
"I have an idea Hardwick, Allen, and the others intend to come to some sort of a settlement to-morrow, either at the old house, or at the office in Broad Street. This Samuels is about to take some of the bonds to Chicago, and we must be on hand to stop the scheme."
"You are right, Hal, and mighty smart. What do you propose? You have done so well thus far I must really allow you to go on."
"I propose we go to the old house, accompanied by a couple of officers, and lay low for Hardwick and Allen. When they come I can appear before them with my hands and feet bound, and accuse them of the crime. They will not know that Macklin has been arrested—I have taken care of that—and they may give themselves away."
"A good plan. What rogues they are, and how blind I have been! Hal, I shall not forget all you have done for me."
A little more conversation ensued, and then the youth arose.
"Where are you going, now?"
"To the hotel to get some sleep."
"No need of going to the hotel. I will call up one of the servants, and she can show you to a room."
"You are very kind, Mr. Sumner——"
"It is nothing, Hal, in comparison to what you have done for me. I shall reward you well if the missing box is recovered."
Quarter of an hour later Hal was shown to a bedroom on the second floor. It was quite the finest apartment of the kind he had ever entered. The servant opened the bed and drew the curtains, and then retired.
"Gracious, this is style!" murmured the youth, as he began to disrobe. "I wonder if I will ever own anything as nice?"
On the walls were a number of steel engravings and etchings, and on the mantel rested a large photograph of a handsome, middle-aged lady.
Hal gazed at the portrait for fully five minutes. The features were so motherly they appealed to his heart.
"It must be a picture of the late Mrs. Sumner," he thought. "What a good woman she must have been! No wonder Mr. Sumner and Miss Laura miss her."
And then, as he thought of his own condition—that of a mere poor-house foundling—his eyes grew moist.
"How I wish I had known a mother, and that she was like her," was his soliloquy. "Or that I had a father like kind Mr. Sumner—and such a girl like Miss Laura for a sister," he added, suddenly, and then he blushed.
His mind presently turned back to the missing tin box, and thinking over this, he soon fell asleep.
He was up bright and early. When he went down to the library he found Laura Sumner there, and the old broker soon joined them.
A hasty breakfast was had, livened by the bright conversation of Laura, who was of a vivacious turn of mind, and then Mr. Sumner and Hal hurried off to police headquarters.
Their quest was soon explained to the officer in charge, and two men were detailed to accompany them to the old mansion up on the Jerome Avenue road.
It had stopped snowing, and the early morning sun made everything glisten. A large sleigh was procured, and one of the policemen and Hal mounted the box and off they drove.
It was twenty minutes to eight when the vicinity of the old Flack mansion was reached. The sleigh was driven around a bend and into a clump of trees, and then the party dismounted.
"I'll go ahead, and see if anybody is around," said Hal. "If it's all right I'll wave a handkerchief from one of the windows."
The youth was somewhat excited. Supposing Macklin had made up the story of the meeting between Hardwick and Allen? Such a thing was possible.
"But no, he wouldn't dare," thought Hal. "He is thoroughly scared, and wants to gain our good graces by giving the others away."
The deserted mansion was in a dilapidated condition. More than half the shutters were gone, and the front door stood wide open.
Sneaking up along an old hedge, Hal gained the half-tumbled-down piazza and glided swiftly into the hall, now more than quarter filled with snow, which the sharp wind had driven in.
"Certainly a cheerless place," he thought. "But I suppose they thought no one would come here, and so they would be free from interruption."
He entered the parlor of the house, and then walked through to the dining-room, the library, and then the kitchen. Nothing was disturbed, and the smooth snow, wherever it had drifted in, did not show the first sign of a footstep.
"Good! I am in plenty of time," said Hal to himself. "I must tramp around a bit, and then bind myself up as best I can."
He waved his handkerchief out of one of the windows and then proceeded to tie his feet together.
He had just finished the work, when Horace Sumner and two officers rushed in.
"They are coming!" exclaimed the old broker. "There are Allen, Hardwick, and two strangers."
"The strangers must be Parsons and Samuels," said Hal. "Here, bind my hands, and shove me into the closet, and then hide."
This was done, and less than a minute later a stamping was heard, and Allen, Hardwick, Parsons, and Samuels entered the parlor.
"Hullo, Macklin, where are you?" cried Hardwick.
Of course, there was no reply.
"Must have gone off to get his breakfast," said Allen. "Wonder what he did with the boy?"
"Boy!" cried Hardwick. "Better say man. Carson is altogether too smart to be called a boy."
"We must get him out of the way, and then finish this bond matter," went on Allen.
"Yes, and hurry up," put in Samuels. "I want to catch, the twelve o'clock train to Chicago, and you might as well give me the bonds to take along. The sooner they are worked off the better."
"That's an easy matter to settle," said Hardwick. "I have the tin box right here with me. I didn't dare leave it behind, for fear old Sumner might get a search warrant and go through my house."
As the ex-book-keeper spoke, he unbuttoned his great coat, and brought forth the missing tin box for which Hal and the others had been so long searching.
Hal and the others listened with keen interest to Hardwick's words. The ex-book-keeper had the missing railroad bonds with him, and he intended to transfer them to Samuels, to be disposed of to the best advantage.
"Now is the time to capture the gang," thought Hal. "I wish my hands were free."
"Let us see what has become of Carson first," said Allen, nervously. "Somehow I don't feel safe as long as that boy is within possible hearing."
"Don't get afraid," replied Parsons. "Tommy Macklin has probably done him up, or you would hear something from him."
"Macklin tried to remove him once before," returned Allen, with a shake of his head. "That boy beats all for shrewdness."
"I would like to settle him myself," growled Hardwick. "We would never have had the least bit of trouble if it hadn't been for him. Like as not I would still have been Sumner's head and confidential clerk," he added, with a sarcastic laugh.
"Yes, and I could have made life bitterness itself for Horace Sumner," cried Allen. "I wanted to do more than ruin him."
"What makes you so bitter against Sumner?" asked Parsons.
"That's my affair," replied Allen, shortly.
"It's because Sumner married the girl Allen wanted," put in Samuels. "Allen was clean gone on her, and when she married Sumner it broke him all up."
"Shut up, Samuels!" exclaimed Allen, evidently angry at having the matter mentioned. "There are but few know of it, and I don't want it to reach Horace Sumner's ears, or——"
"It won't reach him through me, Allen, and he will never suspect that you had anything to do with his son's——"
"Will you shut up!" roared Allen, turning white with rage. "One would think, by the way your tongue rattles, that you had been drinking."
"Only had a couple of glasses," returned Samuels, coolly. "So don't get worked up, Allen."
Hal listened to this conversation with deep interest. It revealed why Allen was so bitter against Horace Sumner, and so willing to cheat his partner.
"But I don't understand about that child business yet," muttered Hal to himself.
While the others were talking Hardwick had been examining the closets, and he now came to the one in which the others had placed Hal.
"Hullo! here he is!" he shouted. "Well, how do you feel, you beggar?" the last to the boy.
"Not very well," replied Hal coolly. His hands were now loose, but he kept them behind him.
"You'll feel a sight worse before we are done with you," returned Hardwick, grimly.
"What do you intend to do with me?"
"You'll see soon enough," said the ex-book-keeper.
He turned to the others, and as he did so Hal bent down and freed his feet.
"By Jove! he's loose!" cried Parsons, glancing around.
"Yes, and I intend to stay so," cried Hal, stepping into the room. "Hardwick, I want that tin box."
"Ho! ho! hear him talk!" exclaimed Hardwick. "Jump on him, boys!"
"Stand back, every one of you!" cried Hal. "I am not alone here. There is plenty of help!"
He uttered the last word loudly, and on the instant the doors leading to the dining-room, and the one from the library opened, and Horace Sumner stepped into the parlor, followed by the two officers.
"Trapped!" howled Allen. "Macklin has either been outwitted or he has played us false!"
The two officers held pistols in their hands, and they lost no time in coming to the front.
"Surrender, all of you!" cried one of them.
"Never!" cried Allen. "Do you think I am to be caught like a rat in a trap?"
He made a dash for the hall-way, and was quickly followed by Samuels.
But the two policemen were too quick for the pair, and they were speedily overtaken, and then a desperate struggle ensued.
In the meantime Parsons tried to jump through the door-way leading to the library. In order to do this he had to pass Horace Sumner, and putting out his foot the old broker sent the man sprawling to the floor, and then ended his struggles by sitting down on him so suddenly that Parsons' wind was knocked completely out of him.
Hal still confronted Hardwick, whose eyes were fairly blazing with passion.
"Give me the box!" commanded Hal. "Quick! I mean what I say."
Instead of complying Hardwick made a vicious blow for Hal's head. The boy dodged, but in doing so slipped and went down on his back.
Before he could recover, Hardwick sprang for one of the open windows, and leaped through, carrying part of the long sash with him.
He had hardly disappeared when Hal was on his feet again. Without hesitation the youth followed through the broken window. Hardwick was making for the road, where stood a team of horses attached to a fine sleigh.
"If he gets away in that he and the tin box are goners!" was Hal's rapid conclusion. "I must stop him at all hazards."
Hardwick had a good start, but Hal made quick time after him, and when the ex-book-keeper reached the sleigh the boy was not a dozen yards behind.
"Stop, Hardwick!" he cried.
"Not much, Carson! Take that!"
Hardwick pulled out his weapon. There were two reports in rapid succession. Hal was struck in the side, and Hardwick stumbled down.
Hal was quite badly hurt, but he braced up and staggered to where Hardwick lay.
"Now give up the tin box," he ordered, in as steady a voice as he could.
"Never to you!" roared Hardwick. "You have been the cause of all my trouble. Take that!"
He fired. One bullet grazed Hal's shoulder, the others flew wide of their mark. Then the boy took the butt of his own weapon and with one blow on Hardwick's head knocked the villain unconscious.
The mist was swimming before his eyes as he gathered up the tin box and its precious contents, and staggered toward the house. The policemen had made prisoners of the gang, and Horace Sumner ran out to meet the youth.
"You are shot, Hal?" he cried, in quick alarm.
"Yes, Mr. Sumner—I—I am shot," was the low reply. "But here is the tin box and—the—bonds—safe."
And with these words Hal pitched over insensible into the broker's arms.
Horace Sumner was terribly alarmed. Paying no attention to the tin box, he knelt down and raised Hal up on his knee.
"Shot in the shoulder and in the side," he murmured after a brief examination. "Oh, I trust it be not serious!"
All of the prisoners had been handcuffed, and one of the officers followed Mr. Sumner out.
"Hullo! is he shot?" he cried.
"Yes."
"Where is the fellow with the tin box?"
"The box is here, safe. There lies the fellow. Arrest him, and fix it so he cannot get away."
The policeman at once hurried to Hardwick's side, and before the ex-book-keeper had fully recovered consciousness he was handcuffed and then placed in a room with the other prisoners.
"What are you going to do with us?" he demanded of the policeman who stood guard at the door, pistol in hand.
"You will see later. Not another word now."
And Hardwick was forced to keep silent, as were also the others.
There was another house not far distant, and getting the sleigh, Mr. Sumner placed Hal's form into it, and drove him around to the door.
Matters were quickly explained, and as the broker showed that he was a wealthy man, and well able to pay for accommodations, Hal was at once lifted into the house and placed on a comfortable bed in one of the upper rooms.
"Send for the nearest doctor, please," said Horace Sumner. "And tell him he must come at once, no matter what the expense. Tell him I am Horace Sumner, the broker, of Wall Street."
The man about the place at once hurried off, and placing the tin box, which he had picked up out of the snow, on the table, Horace Sumner bent over Hal's motionless form, and sought by every means in his power to restore him to consciousness.
In working over Hal's clothing the golden locket the youth considered his birthright came to light. For the moment Horace Sumner paid no attention to it, but placed it on top of the tin box.
At last Hal opened his eyes and stared around him.
"Hal, how do you feel?" questioned the old broker, with real anxiety in his tones.
"Mr. Sumner! the box—did you——"
"It is safe, Hal."
"I am so glad," and a smile came over the pallid face.
"But, my poor boy, you are hurt—Hardwick shot you. Can't you feel it?"
"Yes, in my side and my shoulder, but I don't think it's very bad, and I'll soon——"
Before Hal could finish he fainted away. Less than ten minutes later the man about the place returned with an experienced physician.
"Not dangerously wounded," was his opinion, after a thorough examination. "He will be as sound as a dollar in a couple of months. But he ought not to be moved for several weeks."
"He shall not be," said Horace Sumner.
And he at once made arrangements with the owner of the house to have the use of that room and the next for the entire time mentioned with board and care for a nurse and Hal.
An hour later Hal was resting easier, and then Horace Sumner arose to leave and find out what the officers had done with the captured criminals.
As he turned to pick up the tin box he noticed the golden locket. He took it up rather carelessly, but suddenly a peculiar look stole into his eyes, and dropping the tin box he hurriedly opened the locket.
"My heavens!" he ejaculated.
The exclamation was so pronounced that it awoke Hal, and the youth opened his eyes wide, and stared at the man.
"Where—where did you get this locket?" demanded Horace Sumner, in a voice husky with emotion.
"It is my birthright—or at least all I have of one," replied the youth.
"Your birthright?"
"That's what I call it, sir. It was around my neck when I was found on the streets of Fairham."
"Can this be true? When was this?"
"About sixteen years ago. But what—what—"
"Stop! what part of the year, Hal? answer me quickly."
"It was one Fourth of July night."
Horace Sumner staggered back.
"Fourth of July," he muttered to himself. "And little Howard disappeared on the twenty-seventh of June. Can it be——"
"You say you do not know anything about yourself?" he asked of Hal.
"No, sir. The people at Fairham tried to find out, but they didn't make a very great effort, I'm thinking, and so I—I—well, you can see how it is."
"You are not to blame, Hal. A better or more noble boy never lived—and—and I thank God that is so, for it—I will explain later. I must see Caleb Allen without delay."
And with his tin box under his arm, Horace Sumner rushed from the house, taking the golden locket with him.
When he appeared at the station-house he seemed almost like a crazy man, so eager was he to interview Allen. A private meeting between the two was speedily arranged.
"Allen, I have come on an important mission," began Horace Sumner.
"Have you? I thought you had your bonds," returned the swindler, as cooly as he could.
"I am not referring to the bonds. This matter is far more important."
"Indeed!"
"When you and the others were at the old Flack mansion Samuels mentioned a subject that lies close to my heart."
"Samuels didn't know what he was saying," growled Allen, turning pale.
"He did, Allen. I have been blind, but my eyes are now wide open. Caleb Allen, years ago you stole my son, my little baby boy."
"It's not true!" almost shouted Allen, but he trembled from head to foot.
"It is true. I have the evidence to prove it. Do you deny that you took the little one first to Philadelphia and then to the village of Fairham, and on the night of the Fourth of July——"
Caleb Allen jumped up as if shot.
"So Tommy Macklin has been blabbing, had he?" he screamed. "But it won't do you any good, Horace Sumner. The boy is lost to you—you will never hear of him again."
"So?" The old broker pulled the golden locket from his pocket. "Look at this. It was around his neck when he was stolen, and it has been the connecting link to prove his identity. He is found, and my little boy Howard is—Hal Carson, the youth who helped to bring you to justice."
Here we must bring our tale to a close.
What Horace Sumner had said was true. Hal Carson was really his son, who had been stolen by Caleb Allen and Tommy Macklin, the latter having, even in those days, been a ready tool of the swindler.
Even after having robbed Sumner of his only son, Allen's hatred was not satisfied, and he entered into the limited partnership only for the purpose of ruining the man.
Allen had fallen in with Hardwick at a gambling house uptown, and the two soon became firm friends. At that time Dick Ferris was a great admirer of Hardwick, who found the tall boy a fellow without scruples of any kind.
Hal was amazed when he learned the truth concerning himself. At first he could not believe it, but when it came home to him he was overjoyed. He speedily recovered from the wounds Hardwick had inflicted, and one fine day in the early part of the following year Horace Sumner and Laura took him to the elegant mansion which was in future to be his home as well as theirs.
Hardwick, Allen, Macklin, and Samuels were all tried, and sentenced to various terms of imprisonment. Parsons escaped, and went to England.
When the police started to find Dick Ferris they found that the tall boy had shipped on a three years, whaling voyage. To this day he has not returned to New York.
The recovery of the tin box containing the railroad bonds saved Horace Sumner from ruin. He and his son are now in partnership on Wall Street, and trusty Jack McCabe is their office boy. Hal, or Howard, as he is now called, is rich, and is surrounded by friends, but it is not likely that he will ever forget the time he came to New York a poor boy, and solved the mystery of the Missing Tin Box.