HAL PLAYS A DARING PART.
Hal lost no time in confronting the new-comer.
"Is Mr. Parsons in?" asked the stranger.
"Yes, sir."
"Tell him Mr. Samuels is here."
"I will, sir."
Hal walked back, and knocked on the rear office door.
"Come!" said Allen.
"A Mr. Samuels to see Mr. Parsons," said the youth.
"Show him in."
Mr. Samuels was conducted to the rear office, and once more the door was tightly closed.
Hal was slightly disturbed. Had the new-comer caught him listening in the back, or had he taken no notice?
The only way to learn was to remain where he had been before, and this the youth did.
"Well, Samuels, on hand I see," said Parsons. "Mr. Allen just came in."
"Then we can come to business without delay," replied Samuels.
He was a small-faced Jew, with eyes that appeared to be more than half closed. As he spoke, he drew up a chair close to where the other two were sitting.
"Say," he went on. "Who is the young fellow outside?"
"Our new clerk."
"Can you trust him?"
"I think so. Why?"
"He might overhear what was said."
"He won't if you don't talk too loud."
"Very well."
"Hold on," put in Allen. "Parsons, send him off to mail some letters."
The junior partner at once walked outside, and, taking up a bunch of letters, handed them to Hal.
"Mail these," he said. "And then you can go to lunch."
"Yes, sir."
Hal at once put on his overcoat and hat, and walked out with the letters. He wished he could have remained in the office, for he felt certain the conversation about to ensue would be a most important one.
He dropped the letters into the nearest box, and then stood undecided what to do next.
"Mr. Allen has those bonds, that's certain," he said to himself. "I wonder if it would do any good to notify the police?"
But this plan did not appear to be just the right one. If arrested, Allen would, of course, deny any knowledge of the stolen property and all the proof Hal had was his own word, and that might not go very far in a court of law.
"No, the only thing to do is to find those bonds and get them back myself," he muttered. "Perhaps Allen only has part of them, and Hardwick the other part. Besides, I have not yet learned what Macklin and Ferris have to do with the case."
He knew there was a window in the back of the rear office; this was tightly closed, so it would be of no use to attempt to hear anything from that direction.
At last Hal took his stand opposite the entrance to the office. He had hardly done so when Parsons and Samuels came out, and hurried up the street at the top of their walking powers.
"Something is up," thought Hal. "Shall I follow them, or remain behind with Allen?"
He knew if he wished to keep his place as clerk, he ought to go back soon. He hesitated, and then decided to remain. So, procuring a sandwich and an apple, he munched them down, and then walked in.
Caleb Allen looked at him darkly as he entered, but said nothing, and, hanging up his coat and hat, Hal resumed the copying of the letter.
Half an hour later, a tall man came in. He was well dressed, and wore a heavy black mustache and beard.
He glanced at Hal, and then walked over to where Allen sat at a desk, writing a letter.
"I want to see you in private," he said, in a low tone.
The voice of the stranger sounded strangely familiar to Hal. Where had he heard it before?
Allen looked perplexed for an instant, and then seemed to comprehend the situation. He at once led the way to the office in the rear. The stranger entered, and the door was once more tightly closed.
Our young hero at once left off writing, and tiptoed his way back. An idea had struck him concerning the stranger's identity, and the first words from behind the thin partition proved that he was correct.
"So you have donned the disguise, Hardwick," were Allen's words.
"Yes, deuce take the luck, I was forced to do it."
"You got my letter advising it?"
"I did. But that wasn't what brought me to it. I was followed by one of old Sumner's detectives."
"Ha! Did he discover anything?"
"Not from me. But I'm afraid he did in another direction."
Allen turned pale, and shifted uneasily.
"What way?" he exclaimed, hoarsely.
"I am pretty well satisfied the same fellow followed Ferris to the establishment where you are having those bogus bills printed."
"And what did he learn?"
"I am not sure he really followed, and, of course, I don't know how much he learned."
"Too bad! Did you come face to face with the man?"
"I did, but he got away from us."
"Who do you mean—was Ferris with you?"
"Yes. He thought he recognized the man as one who followed him to the printing office."
"I see. We must be careful, Hardwick, very careful."
"If it hadn't been for that Carson it would be all right," growled the ex-book-keeper. "I would like to wring that boy's neck."
"So would I. But what has become of him? He was not at the office this morning when I was there."
"I don't know. He boarded with Ferris' aunt, but he has left there, too."
"That's queer."
"I have an idea he isn't so much of a boy as we think," said Hardwick, with a shake of his head.
"What do you mean?"
"I believe if he isn't a regular detective, he is next door to it, and was hired by Sumner to spot me. That scene in the office when I accused him was a put-up job on his part and Sumner's. See how easily Sumner sided with him in every instance."
"By Jove! you may be right," cried Allen. "We must be more than careful, or——"
Hal did not catch the words that followed, for the door of the office opened and a slouching figure entered. It was Tommy Macklin.
Veiling his astonishment as best he could, Hal approached the tough.
"What is it?" he asked, briefly.
"Is der boss in?" asked Macklin.
"Do you mean Mr. Allen or Mr. Parsons?" asked Hal, although he knew very well.
"Mr. Allen."
"I will see. What name?"
"Wot's dat?"
"What is your name?"
"Me name ain't got nothin' ter do wid it. Tell him a gent from der east side wants ter talk ter him a few minits."
"I will."
Hal rapped on the door. It was quickly opened by Mr. Allen.
"Here is a man wants to see you, sir," said Hal. "He says he's from the east side, and won't give any name."
Allen looked out toward Macklin. He looked disturbed when he recognized the tough.
"Step this way," he called out, and Macklin entered the office.
"Now, what brings you?" demanded Allen, as soon as the door was shut.
Instead of replying, Macklin looked at Hardwick, who had taken off part of his disguise.
"Wot! You here?" he faltered.
"Yes, Tommy, you didn't expect it, did you?" returned Hardwick, with a short laugh.
"No, I didn't."
"What brought you?"
"I want money," said the tough, coming forward and putting on a bold front. "I want money from both of yer; see?"
"How much?" asked Allen.
"A t'ousand dollars."
"You are crazy!" cried the broker.
"No I ain't. I mean just wot I say, Allen. I want five hundred from you, an' der udder from Hardwick."
"Supposing we won't pay it?"
"Den I'll tell der police wot I know; I ain't doin' yer work fer nothin'."
And the tough poked his nose close to that of Caleb Allen.
"Nonsense, Tommy!" put in Hardwick. "I agreed to give you a hundred dollars for keeping quiet about what you know, and that's all you'll get."
"Den I'll—wot's dat?"
A loud noise in the outer office startled Macklin. Hal, listening at the door, suddenly found himself in the hands of Parsons and Samuels.
"A spy, as I thought," cried Samuels. "Hardwick! Allen!"
The two called, rushed out, and Hal was surrounded.
"A spy, is he?" cried Allen. "Who can——"
"That beard is false!" exclaimed Hardwick, tearing it as well as the mustache from our hero's face. "Hal Carson! Boys, lock the front door! If he escapes, we shall be ruined!"