Kitabı oku: «Ned Wilding's Disappearance: or, The Darewell Chums in the City», sayfa 8
CHAPTER XXIII
NED’S PREDICAMENT
When Ned awakened Thursday morning in the lodging house and, on looking from the window saw that it was snowing, his unpleasant position came forcibly to him.
“This is nice,” he reflected as he put on his shoes. “It’s as cold as Greenland out of doors, and I’m down to – let’s see what my cash capital is, anyhow.”
He fumbled in the change pocket of his overcoat, and found a few coins.
“Thirty cents,” he murmured as he looked at them. “There’s enough for three five-cent meals, and enough to pay for a bed to-night. I’ll need the bed too, if this storm keeps up.”
He finished dressing and went to the window to look out. It was anything but a pleasant day on which to look for work. The wind had blown the snow into big drifts, and the white flakes were still falling. It was cold too, as he could tell by the draught that came in around the window.
“Come now, everybody clear out!” called a voice, and one of the porters of the lodging house appeared with a pail and broom. “Got to clean up the place. Fifteen cents doesn’t mean you fellers can make a hotel of this place and hang around all day. Clear out!”
“Can’t we stay until it stops snowin’?” asked one of the men, who were crowded around the big stove in the sleeping room.
“You kin if you pay for another night’s lodging,” was the answer. “What do you think this is, the Salvation Army or the Y. M. C. A.? If you want free graft go there. You has to pay for what you gits here. Clear out!”
There was no help for it. Those who hoped to remain in away from the storm, where it was at least warm, though not very inviting, were doomed to disappointment. A few, who had the money, paid for another night’s lodging, which gave them the privilege of remaining in during the day.
Ned had half a notion to do this, but he reflected he might find a place to work which would be so far from the lodging house that he could not conveniently return. So he decided to save his money until he could find out what the day might hold for him.
With scores of other unfortunates he left the warm room and went out into the cold. He was glad he was well clothed and that he still had his overcoat. How long he could keep it, before he would have to pawn it for food, he did not know. He almost decided to go back to the hotel where he had first stayed and see if they knew anything about his valise. That had ten dollars in it. Then the thought of the detective deterred him.
“If I had the four dollars the lodging house proprietor stole from me I’d think I was rich,” he murmured. “But I wouldn’t dare go back after it. He’d have me arrested sure! Though I may have to submit to that to get a warm place to sleep and something to eat, if I don’t get work soon,” he added.
It was very cold. As soon as Ned got out into the street, where he could feel the full sweep of the wind he shivered though his overcoat was a thick one. The snow was blown into his face with stinging force.
“As long as it doesn’t make any difference which way I go I may as well have the wind at my back,” he reasoned as he turned and walked in the opposite direction. “That’s more comfortable, at any rate,” he continued. “Now I must get something to eat, if it’s only a cup of coffee.”
He walked on until he saw a restaurant. In the window was a big gas stove on which a man, in a white uniform and cap, was browning some buckwheat cakes. They looked so good they made Ned’s mouth fairly water.
“I’m going to have some,” he decided. “It will take fifteen cents, if I get coffee with them, but it’s worth it. I’ll make this meal do for dinner too. But supper – ”
Ned did not dare carry his thoughts further. All he knew was that he was very hungry, and at least he had money enough to pay for a simple meal. Supper must take care of itself.
“Maybe I can get a night’s lodging at some free place, and save the rest of my money for supper and breakfast to-morrow,” Ned thought to himself as he entered the restaurant.
He ordered a plate of the cakes and some coffee, and could hardly wait until the girl had placed them on the table in front of him. He got a small pitcher of what passed for maple syrup, and there was a plate of butter from which all at the table helped themselves.
Ned finished the cakes in short order. The coffee was hot if nothing else, but Ned was surprised at the small place in his big appetite which the cakes filled. He almost felt like ordering more but decided it would be rash to reduce his capital to five cents. As it was now, when he had paid for his breakfast, he would have fifteen cents left out of the thirty.
With the pasteboard check which the girl had left at his plate, in his hand, Ned approached the cashier’s desk in the front part of the restaurant. His fingers went into the change pocket of his overcoat, searching for the money. He could feel nothing but the lining. A blank look came over his face. He was sure he had put the money back into that pocket as he finished counting it when he sat on the edge of his bed. Yet it was not there. Hurriedly he felt in all his other pockets.
Meanwhile several customers behind him were impatiently waiting to pay their checks.
“One side,” said the cashier in a gruff tone, as he saw Ned fumbling through his pockets. “What’s the matter with you? Left your memory home?”
“I think I’ve lost my money,” Ned answered, his voice trembling a little.
“Then you’ve got another think coming,” the clerk said in an ugly tone. “I’ve heard that story before.”
“What story?” asked Ned.
“About forgetting your money. Left it in the bank I s’pose, or home on the pianer, or you’ve got to have a check cashed. What is it, speak quick, I’ve got no time to fool.”
While he was talking, the man was busy making change for other customers who walked past Ned.
“Do you mean that you think I’m trying to cheat you?” asked the boy.
“I don’t mean anything if you pay for what you’ve eaten. If you don’t pay – well – there’s a cop just around the corner, and we’ve had your same kind in here before.”
By this time Ned stood alone in front of the desk, as the line of waiting men had passed out.
“I had my money when I came in here,” said the boy. “Or at least I think I did. I had it a little while before, I’m sure, for I counted it. There was thirty cents – ”
“That’s what you look like now,” the cashier interrupted, with a coarse laugh at his joke. “It’ll be thirty days for yours if you don’t settle up.”
“But I haven’t got the money,” replied poor Ned.
“Then you shouldn’t have eaten anything. Do you think we’re feedin’ beggars here?”
“I thought I had the money when I ordered the cakes,” Ned replied, staring helplessly at the fifteen cent check in his hand.
“Say, young feller, that’s too thin. It don’t go here any more. I’ve been stung too often with that yarn. You’ll pay for your grub or you’ll be arrested, see? Have you got the money; yes or no?”
“I haven’t – but if – ”
“Yes, if we let you go you’ll stop in on your way from the bank and give us a check! No you don’t! A fellow gave me that song and dance last week. Jim, call the cop,” and the cashier nodded to one of the men waiters.
“Are you going to have me arrested?” exclaimed Ned.
“That’s what I am. It’s a criminal offense to order a meal, eat it, and not pay for it.”
Ned did not know what to do.
CHAPTER XXIV
A QUEER IDENTIFICATION
Stumbling through the snow drifts the three chums bore the half-unconscious boy they had picked up in the snow bank. They went as quickly as they could, for they knew the need of haste in the case of a person who had been exposed to the cold and storm.
“I wonder who he is?” said Fenn.
“Whoever he is he’s pretty nearly dead,” replied Frank. “I hope we’re not too late.”
As they struggled into the lobby of the hotel with their burden, the night clerk gazed curiously at them.
“What the matter?” he asked.
“Boy almost frozen,” replied Bart. “Send for a doctor!”
“Who’s going to pay him?” the clerk inquired.
“We will!” Bart replied, somewhat indignantly.
“That’s all right, needn’t get mad about it,” the clerk exclaimed. “You’ll find there’s a lot of grafting in New York, and we have to be careful. Here, I’ll help you with him.”
“Take him up to my room,” Frank suggested, as the clerk came from behind the desk and assisted in supporting the boy, who was now unconscious. “Mine is the largest apartment,” Frank went on, “I can bunk in with one of you fellows.”
“Telephone for Dr. Smithers,” the clerk called to a helper as they placed the boy in the elevator. “He’s just around the corner.”
The lad was put to bed in Frank’s room, and the clerk, who seemed a little sorry, for his question about payment, brought in some rubber hot-water bags which were placed about the silent form under the coverlet.
“We must thaw him out,” he said. “That’s the best treatment I know of.”
In a little while the doctor arrived. He said the clerk had done the right thing and he ordered some hot broth prepared.
“Alice ought to be here,” remarked Bart. “This would be just in her line.”
“Wonder who he is?” asked Frank, as the three boys were in Bart’s room, for the doctor, and one of the women servants of the hotel, who had volunteered for a nurse, were busy trying to restore the boy to consciousness.
“Probably some poor homeless wanderer,” replied Fenn. “Tough luck, to be without a home on a night like this.”
“I only hope Ned isn’t in any such plight,” spoke Bart.
“Why should he be?” asked Fenn. “He had plenty of money when he left home.”
“You can never tell what will happen in New York,” replied Fenn with a wise look, which, though he did not appreciate it, was quite a truthful remark.
In about an hour Dr. Smithers came out. He seemed well pleased with what he had accomplished.
“I think we’ll pull him through,” he said, rubbing his hands. “It was a close call. If you had been five minutes later he would probably have been past human aid.”
“Could he tell you anything of himself, doctor?” asked Frank.
“Oh, no. He has not yet fully recovered consciousness. But he will be pretty well in the morning, unless something unforeseen sets in. In the meanwhile he must be kept perfectly quiet. On no account must he be disturbed. One of the chambermaids will watch him during the night. I ventured to engage her as a sort of emergency nurse.”
“That’s right,” spoke Bart. “You can send the bill to me, doctor, and we’ll pay for the nurse.”
“I’m sure that’s very good of you,” Dr. Smithers went on, “to take so much interest in a boy you never saw before, as I understand it.”
“Can’t tell but we might want the same kind of help ourselves, some day,” Frank remarked.
“That’s so,” the physician agreed. “Well, now I believe I’ll go. He’ll get along all right I think, and I’ll look in on him in the morning.”
Frank and Bart arranged to occupy the latter’s bed that night, as it was a large one. As Frank went into his room, where the rescued boy was, to get some clean clothing for the morning, he saw the lad lying asleep, with the woman watching at the head of the bed. The gas was turned low, but a gleam from it struck on the cheek of the sleeper. As Frank passed close by the bed he looked down on the patient, and, as he did so, he started. For there, on the right cheek of the boy, was a small, but vivid red scar. Frank pointed to it, before he knew what he was doing. The nurse, seeing his gesture, looked up in alarm.
“That mark!” whispered Frank. “Is it a cut? Did he fall and hurt himself?”
“It’s an old scar,” the woman replied in a whisper. “I noticed it when I was giving him some medicine a while ago. Why?”
“Nothing much; I thought it might be a cut,” Frank replied as he hurried quietly from the room. He found Bart and Fenn discussing the finding of the boy. “Fellows,” began Frank suddenly as he entered, “do you remember Mrs. Perry?”
“You mean the woman whose place we stayed at over night out of the blizzard?” asked Bart.
“That’s it. Do you remember what she told us about her son William who was lost?”
“Sure,” answered Bart.
“Didn’t she say he had a scar or something on his face?”
“A red scar on his right cheek,” replied Bart. “Why?”
“He’s in there!” declared Frank.
“Are you dreaming?” asked Bart incredulously.
Then Frank told his chums what he had seen.
“Of course there may be other boys besides William Perry with red scars on their right cheeks,” he added, “but I’m sure this is the son of the widow, in the cabin in the woods. We can find out in the morning.”
“Why not now?” asked Fenn.
“Doctor said he mustn’t be disturbed,” Frank replied. “We’ll have to wait.”
In the morning the boy was much better. The doctor paid an early visit and pronounced him out of danger, but advised that he be kept in bed a day or so.
“Now you chaps who rescued him had better go in and tell him all about it,” the physician said as he came from the room. “He’s all excited with curiosity as to how he got here.”
The boys paid the doctor, who said he would not have to call again unless the patient had a relapse, and then they went into the room where the lad was. He was sitting up in bed alone, for the chambermaid had gone.
“Are you the boys who saved me?” was the first question he asked.
“We pulled you out of the snow, but I guess the doctor did the real work of saving you, William Perry!” exclaimed Frank.
“What’s that?” almost shouted the boy in bed.
“Aren’t you William Perry? Doesn’t your mother live near Kirkville, and haven’t you two sisters, Mary and Jane?” Frank went on earnestly, for he had determined on a bold plan. “Your mother wants you to come home,” he added. “Your room is all ready for you. She told us to tell you to come back, no matter what had happened.”
“Have you seen my mother?” asked the boy, his eyes filling with tears. “Did she send you to find me?”
“Then you are William Perry!” exclaimed Bart. “You guessed it, Frank!”
“We saw your mother Thanksgiving day,” went on Frank. “We were able to help her. We found her cabin just in the nick of time, for we were caught in a blizzard. So we have only paid back, in a measure, what she did for us.”
“Yes, I am William Perry,” the boy admitted, and now he made no effort to conceal his tears. “It’s the first time I’ve used my name, though, in many months. My poor mother! Yes, I will go back to her. I’d go now, only – ”
“Don’t let the money part worry you,” said Fenn eagerly. “We’ll lend you some.”
“I’ve made a big failure of it all,” William went on. “I ought not to go home.”
“The more reason why you should,” interrupted Frank.
Then the waif told them his story. He had started off to go to sea, in order to earn money for his mother. But he only got as far as Boston. Then, unable to stand the hard work he deserted the ship. Fearing to go home, because he thought he might be arrested for leaving the vessel, he tried to find work. He did manage to get odd jobs here and there, and finally drifted to New York.
He found it was just as hard to earn a dollar there as it had been in Boston. He could barely get enough to buy himself food and he often went hungry. Finally he managed to get a permanent position, but he earned so little that he could only just live on it. He had slept in lodging houses, he said, and wore the poorest clothing he could buy.
“I was ashamed to go home without money,” he went on, “or I would have gone back long ago. I wanted to return with good clothes and gold jingling in my pocket, as I had read, in books, of boys doing. So I didn’t even write to let them know where I was. Poor mother!” and William sighed.
“I lost my position a month ago. Since then I have only managed to earn enough to live, and it was hard work at times. I hadn’t had anything to eat all day yesterday,” he went on, “and I was cold and weak. I was on my way to the river, thinking I could find a place on the wharves to sleep, when I stumbled and fell into the snowbank. When I was down it felt so warm there I decided to stay. I didn’t care what became of me.”
“But you do now, don’t you?” asked Frank.
“Do I?” asked the boy eagerly. “Say, will you lend me a stamp so I can write home to mother?”
“We’ll do better than that,” said Bart. “We’ll send her a telegram.”
When the message had been forwarded to Mrs. Perry, telling her of the unexpected finding of her wandering boy, the three chums told the waif their reason for being in New York.
“And you haven’t been able to find a trace of Ned, eh?” asked William, musingly.
“Not a trace,” replied Frank. “But don’t let our troubles worry you. You must get strong and hurry home to your mother.”
“Say, let me help you!” exclaimed William eagerly. “Maybe I can pay you back for your kindness. I know New York like a book. I’ve knocked all around it for the last six months. Maybe I can locate Ned for you. I know lots of places where fellows go when they’re down on their luck, as I was. Let me help. Mother won’t mind when I write and tell her I’m going to stay here a few days longer, when she knows what it’s for. I believe I can help you.”
“Perhaps you can,” said Fenn.
So it was arranged that William was to stay with the three chums at the hotel for a few days. He was not to venture out until the next day, however, as he was still weak.
“Will you be all right if we leave you alone here?” asked Frank a little later. “We want to go out and make some inquiries.”
“Sure. Go ahead,” replied William. “I’m so happy now I’ll not be lonesome.”
The three chums went to police headquarters to ask if any news concerning Ned had been received, but there was none for them. The sergeant behind the desk tried to cheer them up by remarking that “no news was good news.”
“We must find him pretty soon,” Bart declared. “If we don’t I’ll begin to believe something bad has happened.”
As they were walking along the Bowery, in the neighborhood of the cheap variety theaters, they were attracted by a flaming poster which announced the various performers who could be seen or heard. They paused and read it through. There were men who imitated monkeys, trained birds, strong men, women who sang, bands of musicians, and at the bottom of the poster was the announcement.
HEAR JOHN NEWTON, THE GREAT
BIRD WHISTLER
“John Newton,” murmured Fenn. “That name sounds familiar.”
“Of course it does,” replied Frank. “That’s the name of the chap who was expelled from our high school last term.”
“So it was. But this can’t be the same one.”
“I think it is,” suggested Fenn. “Don’t you remember, he said he was going to New York to be an actor? I heard he had some sort of a job in a theater. Maybe this is he. Let’s go in and see.”
They bought tickets and entered. The whistling was the last thing on the program, the theater being one where a “continuous performance” was given. A boy came out on the stage and began to whistle, giving imitations of various birds. He did very well, but the three chums were more interested in the identity of the lad than in his performance.
“It is John Newton, from Darewell,” whispered Bart. “I never knew he could whistle like that.”
“He was always practicing at it,” declared Fenn, “but he’s improved a lot since I last heard him in Darewell.”
“Let’s find out if we can’t see him,” suggested Frank, as they went from the theater and inquired their way back of the scenes.
CHAPTER XXV
NED SHOVELS SNOW
A multitude of thoughts rushed through Ned’s mind as he stood in the restaurant awaiting the arrival of the policeman for whom the cashier had sent. He could not imagine what had become of his money. He knew his pockets had no holes in them and he came to the conclusion he must have dropped it on the bed in the lodging house instead of putting it in his overcoat. But he knew he must think of something besides the lost money, as any moment the officer might appear and take him to the police station.
He looked across the street to where a man was shoveling snow from the sidewalk. Then a bright idea came to Ned. He turned to the cashier who was looking at him vindictively and asked:
“Can’t I shovel your walk off and pay for my breakfast that way?”
“Humph! That’s a different proposition,” the cashier replied. “If you’re willing to do the square thing, I guess we are, too. Only don’t try any trick like that again. I s’pose if I let you take a shovel you’ll not skip out with it?”
“I’m not in the habit of stealing,” Ned answered indignantly.
“I don’t know anything about your habits,” the man answered. “I only know a fellow worked that game on me once and I don’t intend to be caught again. I’ll give you thirty cents for cleaning the walk. That’ll pay for your meal and be fifteen cents over. You can take it or go to jail.”
“I’ll take it,” Ned exclaimed. “Where’s the shovel?”
“I’ll be watching you,” the clerk went on. “If you try the sneaking act I’ll have the cop after you.”
“You needn’t be afraid,” rejoined Ned.
The waiter came back to report that the policeman would be there in a few minutes.
“Go and tell him it’s all right,” the clerk said. “The kid’s going to shovel the walk to pay for his grub.”
The waiter, not much relishing his second trip through the storm, scowled at Ned as he passed our hero, but the boy was so pleased at the escape from his predicament that he did not mind the waiter’s black looks.
Ned made a good job of cleaning the walk. The snow was not falling so heavily now, though the storm was far from being over.
“I think I could get work at this if I only had a shovel,” Ned thought as he put the finishing touches on his task. “Maybe the clerk would lend me this one.”
He made the request when he went in to get his pay.
“I’ll leave the fifteen cents with you as security for the shovel,” he said, when he had made his request.
“That’s a hot one; fifteen cents security on a dollar and a half shovel,” the clerk replied with a laugh. “Still, you look honest, though I had my doubts at first,” he added. “Go ahead, take the shovel. Never mind about leaving the money. You’ll need it to get dinner with. Bring the shovel back to-night.”
Thus was Ned started in business. He got several jobs at cleaning sidewalks, and at noon had earned two dollars. He went back to the restaurant, returned the shovel and got dinner. The cashier he had dealt with had gone, but the one who had relieved him knew about the transaction. When Ned had finished his fifteen cent dinner, for that was all he allowed himself, the waitress brought him a big piece of pie.
“I didn’t order that,” he said, though he looked at it longingly.
“The cashier says it’s his treat,” the girl replied with a smile, and Ned had no further compunctions about eating it.
“I told the other fellow you wouldn’t bring the shovel back,” the cashier remarked as Ned paid his check.
“How do you mean?” asked Ned.
“Why the clerk, who was on duty here when you ate breakfast, said he thought you would, and I said I didn’t believe you would show up again. I said if you did I’d give you some pie. See?”
“Oh,” Ned answered with a laugh, “much obliged.”
That afternoon he bought a second-hand shovel and went about looking for more walks to clean. By night he had earned a dollar additional, which gave him considerable more capital than he had possessed since the episode at the hotel.
“I’ll get a room at the lodging house to-night,” he said as he finished a simple supper. “I don’t like those beds all in a heap.”
It was still snowing the next day, and though Ned found the field pretty well covered by scores of other men and boys, he managed to earn two dollars, which made him feel quite like a capitalist, as he shut the door of his lodging-house room that night.
The three chums, who wanted to find John Newton had no trouble. They met him coming from the rear of the theater, as he had done his “turn,” and was not to go on again for three hours.
The “Bird Warbler” was as much surprised to see his former acquaintances from Darewell as they were to find him engaged at a theater.
“I’m studying to be an actor,” John said, “but it’s dull times now and I took this job. It pays pretty well.”
“I never knew you could whistle good enough for this work,” said Fenn.
“It comes natural I guess,” replied John. “But what are you chaps doing in New York?”
They told him, and Bart suggested that perhaps John might happen to see Ned.
“If I do I’ll let you know,” the “warbler” replied. “Where are you stopping?”
“At the Imperial,” replied Bart. “You might telephone us if you hear anything of Ned.”
“I will. Come and have a glass of soda with me,” John added, but the chums were too anxious to keep on with their search to accept, and, bidding the “warbler” good-bye they kept on.
They got back to their rooms at noon, to find that William Perry was up and dressed, and impatient to go out.
“I want to begin to help you,” he said. “Did you see the clerk when you came in?”
“No. Why?” asked Fenn.
“He’s anxious to tell you something. Says they opened a valise a fellow left here and he thinks it might contain a clew that would help you.”
“Maybe it’s about Ned,” suggested Bart. “Come on fellows.”
“What did you say the name of your missing friend was?” the clerk asked them, as the three chums hurried down to his desk.
“Ned Wilding,” answered Frank. “Why?”
“You remember me telling you about that fellow who slipped down the fire escape rope and lost his valise?” the clerk asked. The boys said they did. “Well, we opened it to-day, and the collars are marked ‘N. W.’ I thought it might be a tip for you.”
“Let’s see the things in the satchel,” suggested Fenn.
The clerk showed them to the chums. They had no difficulty in identifying as Ned’s several articles in the valise.
“Then that writing was his, after all!” exclaimed Frank. “Boys, we are on his track.”
“But where can he be?” asked Bart. “We only know he ran away from here. Why did he leave in that fashion? Had he done something he was afraid of?”
“Perhaps he suddenly went – ” began Frank, and then he stopped in seeming confusion.
“What were you going to say?” asked Bart.
“Nothing,” Frank replied. “I made a mistake. I think we’d better tell the police about this.”
“That’s so. I nearly forgot,” the clerk added. “You are to go to police headquarters. A message came over the telephone a little while ago.”
“Perhaps they’ve found Ned!” exclaimed Bart for they had left the telephone number of their hotel with the sergeant at headquarters and the official had promised he would telephone if he had any news.
“Hurry up!” cried Fenn. “Perhaps Ned is there waiting for us.”
“I only hope he is,” Frank remarked, and the boys noticed he appeared gloomy and sad.
“Wonder what ails Frank?” asked Bart of Fenn, as they went to their rooms to get their coats and hats.
“A fit of the same old mysteriousness,” replied Stumpy. “Don’t notice him and it will pass over.”
“Let me go to headquarters with you,” begged William. “I want to help.”
“Are you strong enough to go out?” asked Bart. “It’s quite cold.”
“Oh I’m used to that,” and the boy laughed.
“But you – er – you have no overcoat,” said Fenn, wishing when it was too late he had not mentioned it.
“I’m used to that too,” William replied.
“Would you mind if we loaned you money enough to get a coat?” asked Bart.
William thought for a moment.
“I’m ever so much obliged to you,” he said. “You’ve done more for me now than I can ever repay.”
“Then a little more won’t hurt,” said Fenn with a laugh.
The overcoat was purchased, and the four boys went to police headquarters.
“Gentleman waiting to see you,” the sergeant said. “Seems terribly upset about something.”
They went into an anteroom and found Mr. Wilding. He had been in New York since early Thursday morning, but had been unable to locate the boys, since the finding of William in the snow had taken from the minds of the three chums all thoughts of sending the telegram to Darewell, telling Ned’s father of their address.
“I knew there was something we should have attended to, but I couldn’t think what it was,” Bart exclaimed.
“Have you any news?” asked Mr. Wilding eagerly after explaining he had obtained the address of the chums from the police sergeant who offered to telephone to them.
“Just a little,” replied Fenn and he told of the finding of Ned’s valise. Then all went over the situation, but the prospect seemed no brighter than ever.
“I’ll tell you what we ought to do,” declared William.
“What?” asked Mr. Wilding anxiously.
“We ought to make a regular search of all the lodging houses and other places. I’ve slept in lots of ’em. That’s where men and boys go when they have only a little money, and I guess your son hadn’t much when he lost his valise.”
“I believe you’re right!” exclaimed Ned’s father. “It is a good suggestion. I will hire some private detectives to help in the search.”
“And I’ll do all I can,” said William, whose story had been told to Mr. Wilding.
“My poor boy,” Ned’s father murmured. “I wonder where he can be.”
“Don’t you fret!” exclaimed William. “We’ll find him for you,” and he spoke so hopefully that Mr. Wilding smiled for the first time since he had left home.
It was arranged that he would stay at a hotel near police headquarters while the four boys would remain at the Imperial as there was a bare chance Ned would return.
“Now here’s where I get busy,” declared William, as they left the police station.
