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.