HAL MAKES A LIVELY MOVE.
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.