HAL IS ACCUSED.
When Hal Carson locked himself into the closet of the club-room, he realized that he was in a perilous position.
Supposing somebody undertook to open the door? They might suppose it very strange to find the door locked, and think it necessary to open it, in which case he would be discovered in short order.
He remained perfectly quiet for a long while and heard Churchley admitted, and heard the man seat himself at the center table, and rustle the paper he was perusing.
Of the conversation carried on by Ferris and Hardwick, he heard nothing further, and he was, consequently, totally in the dark concerning the nefarious plot that had been formed to get him into serious trouble.
Ten minutes passed, and the youth began to wonder how long he would have to remain a self-made prisoner.
Then all became quiet in the room beyond, and he wondered if Churchley had not joined the two in the adjoining apartment.
He peered through the key-hole, but could see nothing but a portion of the wall opposite.
Growing bolder, he turned the key in the lock, and cautiously opened the door for the space of several inches. Looking out, he saw that Churchley still sat at the table, which was but a few feet away.
At that instant the man moved and gave a deep breath. Hal thought he intended to look around, and hastily closed the door once more.
The youth's movement was so quick that the door made a sharp sound as the catch clicked. This was followed by the sound made by the key in the lock as Hal once more imprisoned himself.
Hal almost held his breath as he heard Churchley jump up.
"Who's there?" called the man.
Hal made no reply.
Then Churchley came and tried the door.
"Hullo! the door's locked!"
At that moment Hardwick entered, followed by Ferris.
"Somebody in the closet?" cried Hardwick.
"There seems to be."
"Open the door."
"I can't. It's locked."
"Who is in there?" called the book-keeper.
Of course, Hal did not answer.
"Perhaps it was a rat," suggested Ferris.
"Might have been," grumbled Churchley. "I know there are plenty of them in the building, because I once ran across one in the hall-way."
"Where is the key?" asked Hardwick. "We'll soon find out."
"I don't know."
"It ought to be in the lock."
"Perhaps Jackson carted it off. He's an odd sort of a coon."
Hardwick looked around on the mantel and in several other places.
"It's gone."
He came over and shook the door.
"See if the key is on the inside of the lock," suggested Ferris.
At these words Hal put down his hand and felt to make sure that the key was turned to one side.
"I can't see anything," said Hardwick, after an examination.
"Then Jackson must have put it in his pocket," said Churchley.
"Perhaps it was nothing but a rat after all," said Ferris.
"I have half a mind to run up and ask Jackson," said Hardwick. "He lives right on the floor above."
"Oh, don't bother!" returned Churchley. "If it's a rat you may be sure he has gone back to his hole long ago."
A little more conversation followed, to which Hal listened intently, and then the youth heard Hardwick and Ferris go out.
Churchley continued to read the papers, and during that time the youth hardly dared to move for fear the man might re-commence his investigation.
But at the end of the hour Churchley gave a yawn and arose. Then two more men entered the room, and the trio adjourned to the other apartment.
Making sure that the coast was clear this time, Hal unlocked the door and let himself out. Then he locked the door again, and threw the key under the table.
"That will tend to stop suspicion," he reasoned. "And I must be sharp in dealing with these rascals."
He tiptoed his way to the door leading to the hall-way, and was soon outside.
Hardwick and Ferris had gone long before, and below all looked deserted. It was still snowing heavily, and Hal made up his mind that the best thing he could do would be to return to his boarding-house.
He was soon on the elevated train and riding downtown.
Happening to glance toward the other end of the car in which he was seated, he saw Dick Ferris sitting in the corner, apparently absorbed in thought.
"I'm glad I spotted him," thought Hal. "I must take care he does not see me."
East Tenth Street was soon reached. In making for the house Hal crossed over the street, and ran ahead. By this means he managed to get inside and up to his room before Dick Ferris put his key in the door.
To tell the truth, Hal did not sleep much that night. His mind seemed to be in a whirl. What was the plot Hardwick and Dick Ferris had hatched out against him?
He was up early on the following morning. At the breakfast table he had a pleasant word with Saunders, who was a clerk in a dry-goods store, and a pretty good sort of a fellow. Ferris did not appear, but this was not strange, as he had not been down early since his discharge from Sumner, Allen & Co.'s establishment.
Hal was the first to appear at the office in Wall Street. He opened up as usual, and after cleaning and dusting, began copying from the point at which he had left off on the previous day.
At quarter past nine Hardwick hurried in. The book-keeper's face was very red, but whether from the cold or from drink it was hard to determine.
Mr. Allen soon followed Hardwick, and the two entered into a low and earnest conversation in the rear. Hal did not dare to approach them, but he strained his ears to their utmost, and caught the words "he must be watched," and "the detectives will learn nothing," and these set him to thinking deeply.
Presently Mr. Sumner arrived. The elderly broker's face showed deep lines of care and anxiety. He had been up to the police headquarters to see if the detectives could give him any words of encouragement, but he had been disappointed.
"We shall have every one about your establishment watched, Mr. Sumner," the superintendent had said. "And I would advise you to go on with business as if nothing had happened."
And to this the elderly broker had agreed.
Hal watched Hardwick narrowly, and the book-keeper showed plainly that he did not appreciate the attention. Once he put his hand on Hal's arm and glared at him.
"What are you looking at me for?" he demanded, in a low tone, so that Mr. Sumner might not hear.
"Was I looking at you?" asked Hal, innocently.
"Yes, you were, and I don't like it."
Hal bowed, and turned away. Nevertheless, he still kept watch on the sly.
Presently, just before the time that Hardwick usually went out for lunch, he saw something which he thought rather odd, although of no great importance.
On a small shelf over one of the desks rested two new inkstands and several boxes of pens. Going to the desk, Hardwick pretended to be busy examining some papers. While thus engaged, Hal saw the book-keeper transfer the inkstands and the boxes of pens to his overcoat pocket.
"Now, what is he up to?" thought the youth.
Having transferred the articles to his clothes, Hardwick put down the papers and walked to where Mr. Sumner sat, busily engaged over his correspondence.
"Shall I go to lunch now, Mr. Sumner?" he asked.
The elderly broker glanced at the clock.
"Yes."
Hardwick at once went out, and presently Mr. Allen followed. Mr. Sumner continued to write for a minute, and then called Hal.
"You may mail these letters, and then get your lunch also," he said.
"Yes, sir," replied the youth.
Then he hesitated as he took up the letters.
"Well, what is it, Hal?" asked the broker.
"Nothing much, Mr. Sumner. I wished to ask you about those inkstands and the pens that were on the shelf over there."
"What of them? You may use whatever you find necessary."
"It isn't that, sir. I just saw Mr. Hardwick slip the things into his pocket."
"Indeed!" Mr. Sumner looked surprised. "Did he say what he intended to do with them?"
"No, sir."
"I will ask him when he comes in."
Hal hesitated.
"I wish you would not, Mr. Sumner," he said.
The elderly broker looked surprised.
"Why not?"
"Because I think Mr. Hardwick is hatching up some plot against me, and I wish to find out what it is."
"A plot?"
"Yes, sir. He is on friendly terms with Dick Ferris, your former office-boy, and both of them hate me."
"This is certainly news. I knew Hardwick did not like you because you suspected him, but I thought that had passed over."
"No, sir. He is down on me worse than ever, and I feel certain he is up to something to get me into trouble."
"And you think the inkstands and pens have something to do with the matter?"
"Yes, sir. Perhaps he'll say I stole them."
"I can't think Hardwick so bad," mused Mr. Sumner. "Why, if he would do that, he would steal the tin box."
Hal said nothing to this. He preferred to discover more than he had before making any revelation.
"You saw them this morning, didn't you?" went on the youth.
"Yes, I got a pen only ten minutes ago."
"Then you know I didn't take them."
"Yes."
"And you will keep silent—that is, for the present?"
"If you wish it, Hal."
And Mr. Sumner turned away and heaved a sigh. It is terrible to have around you somebody you cannot trust.
Five minutes later Hal went out to lunch—a light affair, as the youth had spent ten cents more than intended in following Hardwick the previous evening, and he knew he must be sparing of his capital.
He was just about returning to the office, when, chancing to glance up the street, he saw Hardwick and Ferris just separating at the corner.
He entered the office, and a minute later Hardwick followed. Neither spoke, and but little was said all the afternoon, excepting such as pertained to the business on hand.
Although his thoughts were busy on other matters, Hal paid strict attention to his work, and Mr. Sumner was well pleased with all the youth did.
"A good, manly fellow," he muttered to himself. "He could never have had anything to do with the robbery of the bonds. I would rather suspect my own son were he still alive. But poor Howard is gone."
Sudden tears sprang into the broker's eyes, which he as suddenly brushed away, afraid that some customer might drop in and see his weakness.
Hal did not leave the office until after four o'clock, there being a number of things to be written up before he could go. Hardwick had gone an hour before, and Hal did not know in what direction.
There being nothing else to do, Hal proceeded leisurely up to his boarding-house, never dreaming of the surprise in store for him. The streets were filled with snow, and he enjoyed the jingle of the sleigh-bells and the bustle of metropolitan life around him. Several times he was strongly tempted to follow the newsboys and bootblacks into the street and catch a ride.
When he entered Mrs. Ricket's house he found Saunders and several others already there. Dick Ferris was in the group in the front parlor, and at a glance Hal saw that something unusual was going on.
He nodded pleasantly, and was about to pass up the stairs when Mrs. Ricket called him back.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Mr. Saunders' room has been robbed!" burst out the woman.
"What!" exclaimed Hal. "Was there much taken?"
"A pair of cuff-buttons, a gold watch-chain and my pocket-book with fourteen dollars in it," replied Saunders.
"It's too bad," sobbed Mrs. Ricket. "I would not have had that happen in my house for a hundred dollars. I wonder who could have done it?"
Suddenly Dick Ferris pulled Saunders aside, and whispered something into his ear.
The dry-goods clerk looked astonished.
"You don't mean it!" he gasped.
"I do," replied Ferris.
Saunders advanced toward Hal.
"Were you in my room this morning after I left?" he asked, sharply.
"Me?" returned Hal, with a start. "No."
"Dick says you were, and he thinks you are the thief," continued Saunders.