"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.