The Missing Tin Box: or, The Stolen Railroad Bonds

"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!"

CHAPTER XVIII.

HAL IN A TIGHT SITUATION

Before Dick Ferris could say a word or move, Macklin clapped his hand over the tall boy's mouth.

"Hush!" he muttered. "I'll fix it all right."

A square table stood in one corner of the room, and under it was a quantity of old bagging.

Macklin seized hold of Hal's body and dragged it toward the table.

Then he shoved the motionless form under the piece of furniture and covered it with the loose bagging.

The key to the door lay on the floor, and picking it up, Macklin inserted it in the lock and gave it a turn.

In a second the door was opened and a stout and harsh-looking woman appeared.

It was Tommy Macklin's wife.

She was a heavy drinker, but she was not a really bad woman at heart.

Had she been as unscrupulous as Macklin himself, the tough would never have pursued the course he did.

Before the woman could enter the room he met her and cut her short.

"I want you to go upstairs," he said, taking the market basket she carried from her.

She looked surprised.

"What for?"

"There was a sneak-thief around, and I want you to see if Mary lost anything."

"A thief? Did he get – "

"No, I didn't give him the chance."

The woman at once turned and went up the flight of stairs leading to the top floor. She had not seen Ferris, and the tall boy breathed a sigh of relief as he turned to listen to what Macklin had to say.

"We've got a good chance ter git him out o' der way."

"Out of the way?" whispered Ferris.

"Dat's wot I said."

"You don't mean – "

Ferris stopped short.

"Yes, I do. You say he's an enemy ter you an' Hardwick?"

"He is that."

"Den I'd git him outer der way."

Ferris' lip twitched.

"What would you do with him?"

"I'll show yer." Macklin scratched his matted hair. "Give me dat potato bag in der closet."

Ferris hesitated, and then, opening the closet in the corner, brought forth an unusually long potato sack.

Raising up the top part of Hal's body, Macklin slipped the sack over head and shoulders. Then he tied the string of the sack fast around Hal's waist.

The tough opened the door and passed out into the hall way.

No one was in sight. Macklin returned to the room.

"Quick, catch him by der legs," he said to Ferris. "I'll take him by der shoulders, an' we'll have him outer sight in a jiffy."

"Where – where will you take him?" faltered Ferris. His teeth were chattering, and his face was as pale as death.

"I'll show yer. Catch hold."

Macklin's tones were angry ones, and Ferris complied. With the body of Hal between them, the pair passed down one flight of stairs, and then to a narrow stairway in the rear leading to a dirty wash-shed.

"Wait here wid him till I come back," said Macklin, and he darted out of the wash-shed door.

Ferris stood beside Hal's body. Presently he thought he heard a low moan, and he imagined that Hal moved one arm. His teeth chattered worse than ever, and it was all he could do to keep from rushing away.

At length, after what seemed to be an age, but which was really less than five minutes, Macklin reappeared.

"We've got der boss chance!" he exclaimed, in a low tone. "Chuck dat piece of rag carpet over him. Dat's it. Now pick him up ag'in."

Once more the two took up Hal's body. Their course was now through the court and into a narrow lane. Here the snow was piled high, but neither seemed to mind it.

"Here we are."

It was Macklin who spoke. He stood at the basement door of an old stone structure which in years gone by had been a vinegar and pickle factory. Pushing open the door, he motioned to Ferris, and Hal's body was taken inside and the door once more closed.

"Wait till I strike a light," said Macklin.

"What is this place?" asked Ferris.

"It's a factory wot ain't in use," was the reply. "His body won't be found here for two or t'ree months, if da finds it at all."

Macklin struck a match and lit a bit of dirty tallow candle which he carried.

"See dat big hole in der floor over dare?" he asked.

"Yes, what is it?"

"Sum kind of a vat, I t'ink. Dat's der place. Hold der glim, will yer?"

Ferris took the candle. His hand shook so that the tallow dropped all over it.

"Wot's der matter wid yer nerves?" asked Macklin, sarcastically.

"Nothing," returned the tall boy, briefly.

"Yer shakin' like a leaf."

"I am cold."

And for once Ferris told the truth. An icy chill seemed to have struck his heart.

Catching hold of Hal's body, Macklin dragged it to the edge of the vat. There was a slight scraping sound as the body was pushed over the edge of the hole, and then all became quiet.

"Dat settles it," said Macklin. "Come on back."

And Hal was left to his fate.

CHAPTER XIX.

A NARROW ESCAPE

Hal came to himself with a shiver. Where was he, and what had happened?

For a moment he could not collect his scattered senses. Then the cold water in the vat reached his mouth and nose, and he gave a gulp.

He put out his hands. They were tight in the sack. With a struggle he stood up. The water in the vat reached his waist, and it was icy cold.

Presently the string of the sack gave way, and he pulled the article off of him. Then he realized what had happened up in the tenement, and felt the blood trickling over his forehead.

"They have put me here thinking I was dead," he thought. "I wonder what sort of a place this is?"

He stepped around in the water, and applied some of it to his head. This stopped the flow of blood, and appeared to clear his brain.

It was semi-dark in the vat, but presently his eyes grew accustomed to this, and he saw where he was.

He gave a shiver. The top of the vat was fully three feet above his reach. What if he could not get out? He would soon perish from the extreme cold.

The vat was some ten or twelve feet in diameter, and Hal walked around the bottom in hopes of finding some spot higher than that upon which he was standing.

In this he was disappointed. The bottom of the vat was perfectly level. By the time he had discovered this fact, he was shivering so he could hardly stand upright.

He jumped up several times in hopes of getting out by that means. But though his hands once touched the upper edge of the vat, he could gain no hold, and immediately slipped back again.

"Help! help!" he cried.

Then he listened. There was no reply. Macklin and Ferris had returned to the tenement.

"I'm all alone," he muttered to himself. "I will die here, and no one will ever know what became of me."

This thought filled Hal with despair, and he again cried out, louder than before.

The cry went echoing through the vast and gloomy building, but there was no response.

"This will never do," thought the youth. "Must I die like a rat in a trap?"

The very thought was maddening, and again he essayed to reach the top of the vat.

It was utterly useless.

"The building must be deserted," he said to himself. "And I suppose it is too far to the street for any one to hear my call."

Five minutes passed. Hal was getting weaker fast. Oh, how his head ached!

Filled with something akin to desperation, Hal cried out again, this time at the very top of his lungs. A deep and profound silence followed.

"It's no use," he thought. "This is some old building that no one will visit all winter. I suppose Ferris and that Macklin think – "

He held his breath. What was that sound overhead?

He strained his ears. Yes, it was footsteps!

"Help! help! Come down in the cellar!" he cried.

Again and again his voice rang out, and the footsteps came closer. Then his heart seemed to stop beating. Supposing it should be Ferris or Macklin returning?

"What's the trouble?" suddenly cried a voice from the stairs in the corner.

"Help me out of the vat!" replied Hal. "Quick! I am freezing to death!"

"Wall, I swan!" ejaculated the voice.

Then came more footsteps, and an elderly man, carrying a lantern, appeared at the edge of the vat.

"Give me your hand," he said, setting down the lantern. "This is a nice fix ter git into."

He leaned down, and Hal held up his hand. The new-comer grasped the youth's wrist, and in a moment Hal was upon the cellar floor.

"Oh, thank you!" chattered Hal. "I – I – couldn't have stood it another minute."

"'Most froze, be you?" returned the man. "Here, strip off that coat of yourn and put on mine. That's a most all-fired cold bath. How did you git in?"

"I was pushed in," replied Hal. He tried to pull off his coat, but had not the strength. "Will you help me?"

"Of course." In a twinkle the man had the coat off, and his own on Hal's shivering form. "Belong around here?"

"No."

"Then come with me. I live right across the way, and I'll soon warm you up. It's lucky I came over to see if everything was all right. I'm looking after the place till spring."

The man took up his lantern once more and led the way up stairs and across the street. The two entered a neat-looking tenement, and the man took Hal to a set of rooms on the second floor.

A hot fire was blazing in the kitchen, and drawing up a chair the man motioned for Hal to sit down.

"Maybe the old woman kin lend you some clothes," said the man. "But I allow as how you may be better off, if you let the wet ones dry onto you. It may save you from a spell of sickness."

"I am doing very nicely now," replied Hal. "I am used to some pretty tough knocks," he added, and he spoke the truth, for life at the Fairham poor-house had been anything but easy.

At that moment, the door opened, and a girl rushed in. She looked at Hal, and then gave a cry of surprise.

"Hullo! What brings you here?" she asked.

"What's that?" put in the man.

"He saved me from getting a beating," said the girl. "Didn't you?"

Hal turned and looked at the girl. It was the same that Ferris had attacked at the entrance to the alley.

He smiled and nodded.

"It was awful good of you," she went on. "He's a brave man, pop."

"Who was going to beat you?"

The girl gave her version of the affair. The man listened attentively, and then turned to Hal.

"I'm doubly glad I did you that service," he said. "Katie is my only girl, and I don't want her abused. May I ask your name?"

"Hal Carson."

"Mine is McCabe."

"McCabe!" cried Hal. "Are you Jack McCabe's father?"

"I am. Do you know my boy?"

"Do I? He saved my life only the other night."

"So it was you he saved?" exclaimed McCabe.

"Yes."

"He told me about it. It seems you have enemies."

"Yes."

"And they are the ones who pushed you into the vat?"

"One of them did, aided by a chum."

"You have been struck on the head. Here, let me bind it up. I suppose you are in no hurry to go?"

"No, sir."

McCabe brought out a handkerchief and a strip of cloth, and bound up the wound, which was but a slight one.

"You ought to have the pair of them arrested," he said.

"I have my reasons for not doing so," replied Hal. "But you may rest assured their time will come."

"They must be villains."

"They are. But, Mr. McCabe, let me thank you for what you have done."

"Oh, don't say a word!"

"I shall never forget it. But for you I might at this moment be dead."

"I only hope you down the rascals, every one of them. Now, I must go and finish looking after the place. Come along, Katie. We'll be back in quarter of an hour. You had better take off your shoes and warm your feet in the oven."

"Thank you."

McCabe and his daughter departed. After they were gone, Hal locked the door and took off part of his clothing, and also did as the man had advised.

The roaring fire soon dried the clothing and warmed Hal through and through. As soon as he heard McCabe's footsteps on the stairs he rearranged his toilet.

"Katie says she saw the fellow that wanted to hit her down in the street just now," said McCabe.

Hal jumped up.

"Which way did he go?"

"Over toward Park Row."

The youth thought for a moment.

"Mr. McCabe."

"What is it, Mr. Carson?"

"Will you do me a great favor?"

"Let's hear what it is."

"Please keep the fact that you saved me a secret."

"A secret?" cried the old watchman, in considerable astonishment.

"Yes, sir."

"What for?"

"I have my reasons for it."

"The villains that attacked you ought to be punished. They ought to be in the hands of the police this blessed minute."

"You are right, ordinarily speaking, but I have work to do before I have them locked up."

"Well, I'll do as you say."

"You see, I want to have them believe that I am really done for."

"I see."

"If they think that, I can follow them up wherever they go quite easily."

"I don't see how. If they see yer – "

"I will be disguised."

"Oh! Goin' ter play a kind of detective part, be you?"

"That is what it amounts to, I suppose."

"It's a great plan, Mr. Carson. You have a long head on yer shoulders."

And the old man chuckled.

"Thank you. Then I can depend or you to – "

"I won't say a blessed word."

"And please caution Katie."

"All right. I will, sir."

"Thank you."

"But when you get through I'll expect to learn how you come out," said McCabe, hastily.

"You can rest assured that I will let you know the full particulars. And I am not going to forget what you have done for me, either."

"Shoo! that's all right. And say – "

At that moment Katie came flying into the apartment, her tangled hair floating in all directions.

"He's downstairs and coming up!" she cried, shrilly.

"Who?" questioned her father, while Hal stood still in wonder.

"The tall boy who hit me."

"Dick Ferris!" muttered Hal under his breath. "What can he want here?"

CHAPTER XX.

FOLLOWING ALLEN

Hal was astonished to learn from Katie McCabe that Dick Ferris was coming up the tenement stairs.

"He can't be coming here!" exclaimed the youth.

"What shall we do if he does?" asked McCabe.

"I don't know. Perhaps I had better hide. He may – "

At that instant came a knock on the door.

"It's him!" whispered Katie.

Andy McCabe, the father, pointed to a closet. Hal tiptoed his way to it, and motioned for Katie to follow. The door was closed, and then Andy McCabe answered the summons.

Ferris stood at the door, his hair disheveled and his lips trembling.

"May I ask who lives here?" he asked.

"My name is McCabe."

"Isn't there a man by the name of Macklin living here?" went on Ferris.

"Macklin?" repeated McCabe, slowly.

"Yes, Tommy Macklin."

"Not as I know on. What does he do?"

"I don't know. I have a letter to deliver to him. So you don't know where he lives?"

"No, sir."

"It's too bad. Will you please tell me what time it is?"

Andy McCabe glanced at the alarm clock that stood on the mantel-shelf.

"Quarter to six."

"As late as that!" cried Ferris. "I must hurry and catch him before six. Only quarter of an hour. Good-day, sir."

"Good-day."

In a moment Ferris was gone. McCabe closed the door, and Hal came out of the closet followed by Katie.

"What does he mean?" questioned the man.

"I'll tell you what it means," said Hal. "He is trying to prove an alibi, in case a body was found in the vat. He thinks you can remember he was here looking for Macklin at quarter to six. If that was true, how could he have helped Macklin at five o'clock?"

"Well, well! he's a smart villain, so he is!" exclaimed Andy McCabe. "I wonder what he would have done if you had stepped out of the closet?"

"I was strongly tempted to do that," laughed Hal. "But now I must be off, Mr. McCabe. Please keep quiet, as I told you."

"I will, Mr. Carson. But where be you going?"

"To follow Ferris. Say, have you an old slouch hat you will exchange for this cap of mine?"

"Here is one of Jack's."

"That will do first-rate."

Hal put on the hat and drew it down over his brow.

"Going to turn spy, be you?" remarked Andy McCabe.

"Yes."

"Well, I wish you luck."

Hal was soon out of the house. Once in the street, he looked up and down.

Ferris was not in view, but he soon caught sight of the fellow coming out of a tenement across the way. He crossed over and followed Ferris toward Park Row, and then to the boarding house.

Here Hal heard the youth say something to his aunt about changing his clothing, and the boy slipped into the house unobserved by anyone, and did likewise. Ferris then left again, followed by Hal.

"I suppose he thinks he has laid good ground-work for his alibi," thought Hal. "Well, let him think so, he will be surprised before long to learn the truth."

At Fourteenth Street Dick Ferris turned and walked toward Broadway. Hal followed close behind, but in the crowd at the corner he lost track of the fellow he was after.

He looked this way and that, and into the restaurants, but Ferris had disappeared.

What was to do next? It was past supper-time, but Hal was in no humor for eating.

Suddenly somebody brushed him rudely. It was a man wearing a heavy cape coat. Hal glanced at the individual sharply, and was astonished to see it was Mr. Caleb Allen.

Allen had not seen Hal, and the boy at once placed himself where he was not likely to be noticed.

"I wonder if he and Ferris met?" thought Hal. "It isn't likely, but yet it may be so. The three of them are into this, and so is that fellow Macklin. I must be careful, and keep my eyes wide open."

Allen passed up Union Square on the west side, and Hal made it a point to follow close behind.

Arriving at Seventeenth Street, Allen turned down toward the North River. He passed over several blocks, and finally ascended the steps of a small mansion on the left.

The front of the mansion was totally dark, but when the door was opened Hal saw that the interior was brilliantly illuminated.

As soon as Allen passed in the door was closed, and all became as dark as before, Hal hesitated, and then ascending the steps, looked for a door-plate.

There was the number in bright silver numerals, but nothing was to be seen of any name.

"Most of them have a name," he said to himself. "I wonder who lives here?"

Hal descended again to the street, and walked on to the end of the block.

Here was a small stand with a flaring gasoline torch, at which an old German was selling apples and other fruit.

Hal entered into conversation with the proprietor of the stand, and at length asked if he knew who lived at the place, mentioning the number.

"Dot blace?" The man gave a low laugh. "I dinks me nopody vos lif dere."

"Nobody?"

"Nein."

"But there must be somebody," urged Hal. "I saw a man go in."

"Dot's so, too." The German laughed again. "But da don't vos lif dere."

"Well, what are they doing there, then?"

The apple man put his long finger up beside his nose.

"Dot vos a blace ver dere rich fool vos plow in his money; see?"

"A gambling-place?"

"Oxactly."

"Who runs it?"

"Dot I don't vos know. I dinks me a fellow named Ditson."

"Do many men go there?"

"Yah. Somedimes so many as two dozen by von night."