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CHAPTER XIX.
A NARROW ESCAPE

Hal came to himself with a shiver. Where was he, and what had happened?

For a moment he could not collect his scattered senses. Then the cold water in the vat reached his mouth and nose, and he gave a gulp.

He put out his hands. They were tight in the sack. With a struggle he stood up. The water in the vat reached his waist, and it was icy cold.

Presently the string of the sack gave way, and he pulled the article off of him. Then he realized what had happened up in the tenement, and felt the blood trickling over his forehead.

"They have put me here thinking I was dead," he thought. "I wonder what sort of a place this is?"

He stepped around in the water, and applied some of it to his head. This stopped the flow of blood, and appeared to clear his brain.

It was semi-dark in the vat, but presently his eyes grew accustomed to this, and he saw where he was.

He gave a shiver. The top of the vat was fully three feet above his reach. What if he could not get out? He would soon perish from the extreme cold.

The vat was some ten or twelve feet in diameter, and Hal walked around the bottom in hopes of finding some spot higher than that upon which he was standing.

In this he was disappointed. The bottom of the vat was perfectly level. By the time he had discovered this fact, he was shivering so he could hardly stand upright.

He jumped up several times in hopes of getting out by that means. But though his hands once touched the upper edge of the vat, he could gain no hold, and immediately slipped back again.

"Help! help!" he cried.

Then he listened. There was no reply. Macklin and Ferris had returned to the tenement.

"I'm all alone," he muttered to himself. "I will die here, and no one will ever know what became of me."

This thought filled Hal with despair, and he again cried out, louder than before.

The cry went echoing through the vast and gloomy building, but there was no response.

"This will never do," thought the youth. "Must I die like a rat in a trap?"

The very thought was maddening, and again he essayed to reach the top of the vat.

It was utterly useless.

"The building must be deserted," he said to himself. "And I suppose it is too far to the street for any one to hear my call."

Five minutes passed. Hal was getting weaker fast. Oh, how his head ached!

Filled with something akin to desperation, Hal cried out again, this time at the very top of his lungs. A deep and profound silence followed.

"It's no use," he thought. "This is some old building that no one will visit all winter. I suppose Ferris and that Macklin think – "

He held his breath. What was that sound overhead?

He strained his ears. Yes, it was footsteps!

"Help! help! Come down in the cellar!" he cried.

Again and again his voice rang out, and the footsteps came closer. Then his heart seemed to stop beating. Supposing it should be Ferris or Macklin returning?

"What's the trouble?" suddenly cried a voice from the stairs in the corner.

"Help me out of the vat!" replied Hal. "Quick! I am freezing to death!"

"Wall, I swan!" ejaculated the voice.

Then came more footsteps, and an elderly man, carrying a lantern, appeared at the edge of the vat.

"Give me your hand," he said, setting down the lantern. "This is a nice fix ter git into."

He leaned down, and Hal held up his hand. The new-comer grasped the youth's wrist, and in a moment Hal was upon the cellar floor.

"Oh, thank you!" chattered Hal. "I – I – couldn't have stood it another minute."

"'Most froze, be you?" returned the man. "Here, strip off that coat of yourn and put on mine. That's a most all-fired cold bath. How did you git in?"

"I was pushed in," replied Hal. He tried to pull off his coat, but had not the strength. "Will you help me?"

"Of course." In a twinkle the man had the coat off, and his own on Hal's shivering form. "Belong around here?"

"No."

"Then come with me. I live right across the way, and I'll soon warm you up. It's lucky I came over to see if everything was all right. I'm looking after the place till spring."

The man took up his lantern once more and led the way up stairs and across the street. The two entered a neat-looking tenement, and the man took Hal to a set of rooms on the second floor.

A hot fire was blazing in the kitchen, and drawing up a chair the man motioned for Hal to sit down.

"Maybe the old woman kin lend you some clothes," said the man. "But I allow as how you may be better off, if you let the wet ones dry onto you. It may save you from a spell of sickness."

"I am doing very nicely now," replied Hal. "I am used to some pretty tough knocks," he added, and he spoke the truth, for life at the Fairham poor-house had been anything but easy.

At that moment, the door opened, and a girl rushed in. She looked at Hal, and then gave a cry of surprise.

"Hullo! What brings you here?" she asked.

"What's that?" put in the man.

"He saved me from getting a beating," said the girl. "Didn't you?"

Hal turned and looked at the girl. It was the same that Ferris had attacked at the entrance to the alley.

He smiled and nodded.

"It was awful good of you," she went on. "He's a brave man, pop."

"Who was going to beat you?"

The girl gave her version of the affair. The man listened attentively, and then turned to Hal.

"I'm doubly glad I did you that service," he said. "Katie is my only girl, and I don't want her abused. May I ask your name?"

"Hal Carson."

"Mine is McCabe."

"McCabe!" cried Hal. "Are you Jack McCabe's father?"

"I am. Do you know my boy?"

"Do I? He saved my life only the other night."

"So it was you he saved?" exclaimed McCabe.

"Yes."

"He told me about it. It seems you have enemies."

"Yes."

"And they are the ones who pushed you into the vat?"

"One of them did, aided by a chum."

"You have been struck on the head. Here, let me bind it up. I suppose you are in no hurry to go?"

"No, sir."

McCabe brought out a handkerchief and a strip of cloth, and bound up the wound, which was but a slight one.

"You ought to have the pair of them arrested," he said.

"I have my reasons for not doing so," replied Hal. "But you may rest assured their time will come."

"They must be villains."

"They are. But, Mr. McCabe, let me thank you for what you have done."

"Oh, don't say a word!"

"I shall never forget it. But for you I might at this moment be dead."

"I only hope you down the rascals, every one of them. Now, I must go and finish looking after the place. Come along, Katie. We'll be back in quarter of an hour. You had better take off your shoes and warm your feet in the oven."

"Thank you."

McCabe and his daughter departed. After they were gone, Hal locked the door and took off part of his clothing, and also did as the man had advised.

The roaring fire soon dried the clothing and warmed Hal through and through. As soon as he heard McCabe's footsteps on the stairs he rearranged his toilet.

"Katie says she saw the fellow that wanted to hit her down in the street just now," said McCabe.

Hal jumped up.

"Which way did he go?"

"Over toward Park Row."

The youth thought for a moment.

"Mr. McCabe."

"What is it, Mr. Carson?"

"Will you do me a great favor?"

"Let's hear what it is."

"Please keep the fact that you saved me a secret."

"A secret?" cried the old watchman, in considerable astonishment.

"Yes, sir."

"What for?"

"I have my reasons for it."

"The villains that attacked you ought to be punished. They ought to be in the hands of the police this blessed minute."

"You are right, ordinarily speaking, but I have work to do before I have them locked up."

"Well, I'll do as you say."

"You see, I want to have them believe that I am really done for."

"I see."

"If they think that, I can follow them up wherever they go quite easily."

"I don't see how. If they see yer – "

"I will be disguised."

"Oh! Goin' ter play a kind of detective part, be you?"

"That is what it amounts to, I suppose."

"It's a great plan, Mr. Carson. You have a long head on yer shoulders."

And the old man chuckled.

"Thank you. Then I can depend or you to – "

"I won't say a blessed word."

"And please caution Katie."

"All right. I will, sir."

"Thank you."

"But when you get through I'll expect to learn how you come out," said McCabe, hastily.

"You can rest assured that I will let you know the full particulars. And I am not going to forget what you have done for me, either."

"Shoo! that's all right. And say – "

At that moment Katie came flying into the apartment, her tangled hair floating in all directions.

"He's downstairs and coming up!" she cried, shrilly.

"Who?" questioned her father, while Hal stood still in wonder.

"The tall boy who hit me."

"Dick Ferris!" muttered Hal under his breath. "What can he want here?"

CHAPTER XX.
FOLLOWING ALLEN

Hal was astonished to learn from Katie McCabe that Dick Ferris was coming up the tenement stairs.

"He can't be coming here!" exclaimed the youth.

"What shall we do if he does?" asked McCabe.

"I don't know. Perhaps I had better hide. He may – "

At that instant came a knock on the door.

"It's him!" whispered Katie.

Andy McCabe, the father, pointed to a closet. Hal tiptoed his way to it, and motioned for Katie to follow. The door was closed, and then Andy McCabe answered the summons.

Ferris stood at the door, his hair disheveled and his lips trembling.

"May I ask who lives here?" he asked.

"My name is McCabe."

"Isn't there a man by the name of Macklin living here?" went on Ferris.

"Macklin?" repeated McCabe, slowly.

"Yes, Tommy Macklin."

"Not as I know on. What does he do?"

"I don't know. I have a letter to deliver to him. So you don't know where he lives?"

"No, sir."

"It's too bad. Will you please tell me what time it is?"

Andy McCabe glanced at the alarm clock that stood on the mantel-shelf.

"Quarter to six."

"As late as that!" cried Ferris. "I must hurry and catch him before six. Only quarter of an hour. Good-day, sir."

"Good-day."

In a moment Ferris was gone. McCabe closed the door, and Hal came out of the closet followed by Katie.

"What does he mean?" questioned the man.

"I'll tell you what it means," said Hal. "He is trying to prove an alibi, in case a body was found in the vat. He thinks you can remember he was here looking for Macklin at quarter to six. If that was true, how could he have helped Macklin at five o'clock?"

"Well, well! he's a smart villain, so he is!" exclaimed Andy McCabe. "I wonder what he would have done if you had stepped out of the closet?"

"I was strongly tempted to do that," laughed Hal. "But now I must be off, Mr. McCabe. Please keep quiet, as I told you."

"I will, Mr. Carson. But where be you going?"

"To follow Ferris. Say, have you an old slouch hat you will exchange for this cap of mine?"

"Here is one of Jack's."

"That will do first-rate."

Hal put on the hat and drew it down over his brow.

"Going to turn spy, be you?" remarked Andy McCabe.

"Yes."

"Well, I wish you luck."

Hal was soon out of the house. Once in the street, he looked up and down.

Ferris was not in view, but he soon caught sight of the fellow coming out of a tenement across the way. He crossed over and followed Ferris toward Park Row, and then to the boarding house.

Here Hal heard the youth say something to his aunt about changing his clothing, and the boy slipped into the house unobserved by anyone, and did likewise. Ferris then left again, followed by Hal.

"I suppose he thinks he has laid good ground-work for his alibi," thought Hal. "Well, let him think so, he will be surprised before long to learn the truth."

At Fourteenth Street Dick Ferris turned and walked toward Broadway. Hal followed close behind, but in the crowd at the corner he lost track of the fellow he was after.

He looked this way and that, and into the restaurants, but Ferris had disappeared.

What was to do next? It was past supper-time, but Hal was in no humor for eating.

Suddenly somebody brushed him rudely. It was a man wearing a heavy cape coat. Hal glanced at the individual sharply, and was astonished to see it was Mr. Caleb Allen.

Allen had not seen Hal, and the boy at once placed himself where he was not likely to be noticed.

"I wonder if he and Ferris met?" thought Hal. "It isn't likely, but yet it may be so. The three of them are into this, and so is that fellow Macklin. I must be careful, and keep my eyes wide open."

Allen passed up Union Square on the west side, and Hal made it a point to follow close behind.

Arriving at Seventeenth Street, Allen turned down toward the North River. He passed over several blocks, and finally ascended the steps of a small mansion on the left.

The front of the mansion was totally dark, but when the door was opened Hal saw that the interior was brilliantly illuminated.

As soon as Allen passed in the door was closed, and all became as dark as before, Hal hesitated, and then ascending the steps, looked for a door-plate.

There was the number in bright silver numerals, but nothing was to be seen of any name.

"Most of them have a name," he said to himself. "I wonder who lives here?"

Hal descended again to the street, and walked on to the end of the block.

Here was a small stand with a flaring gasoline torch, at which an old German was selling apples and other fruit.

Hal entered into conversation with the proprietor of the stand, and at length asked if he knew who lived at the place, mentioning the number.

"Dot blace?" The man gave a low laugh. "I dinks me nopody vos lif dere."

"Nobody?"

"Nein."

"But there must be somebody," urged Hal. "I saw a man go in."

"Dot's so, too." The German laughed again. "But da don't vos lif dere."

"Well, what are they doing there, then?"

The apple man put his long finger up beside his nose.

"Dot vos a blace ver dere rich fool vos plow in his money; see?"

"A gambling-place?"

"Oxactly."

"Who runs it?"

"Dot I don't vos know. I dinks me a fellow named Ditson."

"Do many men go there?"

"Yah. Somedimes so many as two dozen by von night."

"And they do nothing there but gamble?"

The German nodded. "Of you got some money you don't vont to kept dot's der blace to lose it."

"Thank you, but I need all I have," laughed Hal.

"Den you don't better keep away, ain't it?"

"I think that would be best."

"Dake mine vort it vos."

"Did you see many men go in to-night?"

"Vot you ask dot for, hey?"

"I'm looking for a man I know."

"I seen nine or ten men go in by dere front door. I don't vos know how many go py der pack."

"Then there is a back door?"

"Yah, on der next street."

"I see. Well, I guess I won't wait for the man."

Hal walked back slowly, and passed the house. What should he do next? Would it be worth while to track Allen farther at present?

Suddenly an idea popped into his mind. Farther up the street he had passed a costumers' establishment, where everything in the shape of a make-up for detective or actor was to be had.

He walked back to the place, and entered it. Back of the counter stood a young who came up and asked what was wished.

"Can I get a small, black mustache cheap?" asked Hal.

"We have them for twenty-five cents."

"Will they stay on?"

"Yes, if you adjust them properly."

"Then let me have one."

The clerk brought forth the false mustache, and helped Hal to put it on. The youth looked in a mirror at the effect.

"Changes me completely," he said.

"It does, sir. Makes you look five years older, too."

"Here is your money."

The clerk took Hal's quarter, and the boy walked forth from the place without taking the trouble to remove the mustache. Once outside he could not help but laugh.

"I am certainly going into the detective business, and no mistake," he thought. "I trust I am successful in what I undertake to do."

Hal walked back toward the gambling-house, and after some hesitation ascended the stone steps and rang the bell.

A negro answered his summons.

"Is Mr. Arnold here?" asked the lad, as coolly as he could.

"Mr. Arnold?" The negro shook his head.

"But he must be," persisted Hal. "He said he was coming here."

"Don't t'ink I see him, sah. What kind ob a lookin' gen'men he is?"

"About medium built, with a dark mustache," replied Hal. "I have important news for him. He said he was going to try his luck here to-night."

"I see, sah. Den you knows dis place, sah."

"Oh, yes!"

"Come in, sah."

Hal entered, and the door was closed and locked behind him.

"Now you kin go upstairs an' see if de gen'men am here," said the negro. "He might be, yo' know, an' I not know his name, sah."

"All right; I'll take a look around," replied Hal.

CHAPTER XXI.
IN A DANGEROUS PLACE

Hal felt that his situation was a delicate one, and that he must go slow. Were it discovered that he had entered the den of vice merely for the purpose of spying, it might go hard with him.

The negro waved his hand toward the thickly carpeted stairway, and Hal ascended to the second floor of the mansion.

He looked behind to see if the negro had followed, but that burly individual had disappeared.

The upper hall-way was as dark as below, but from under several doors a bright light was streaming.

Hal approached the first one he came to, and, removing his hat, tried the handle.

The door came open, and Hal peered into the apartment.

No one was present, but a young man asleep in an arm-chair, and Hal stepped inside.

The room was gorgeously furnished, costly rugs covering the floor, and heavy curtains hanging over the doors. On the walls were beautiful paintings, and on a stand to one side of the room rested a remarkable piece of statuary representing three jolly gamblers at the gaming-table.

"It must be some sort of a waiting-room," thought Hal. "I wonder who the fellow asleep in the chair is?"

He gave a slight cough, and the young man slowly opened his eyes.

"Did anybody call me?" he asked, in a heavy tone.

"Where is the playing-room, please?" asked Hal.

"Eh? playing-room?" repeated the young man. "Go right in the next room."

He pointed with his finger, and bowing, Hal did as directed.

The sight that met Hal's eyes as he opened the door filled the youth with wonder. He had often heard of such places, but he had never dreamed of them being as they are. He saw a long hall, brilliantly lighted. Crowded about the table, some standing and some sitting, were young men and old, all intent on the games that were going on.

The table was piled with money, which seemed to change hands rapidly, for the resort was a well-known one among club men.

"What do you make it?"

"A twenty, Charley."

Hal recognized the last voice. It was that of Mr. Caleb Allen!

The boy looked at the man. There was an excited appearance upon the broker's features.

"He looks as if he has been losing," thought Hal. "I wonder how much he has staked?"

No one appeared to notice his coming, and he stood just back of the crowd, taking in everything so far as it concerned Allen.

The game went on, and Allen lost. Then the broker played once more, and lost again.

"A hundred this time," he said.

The broker played with extreme caution, as indeed did all of the others. In consequence the game lasted fully quarter of an hour.

Hal saw by the broker's actions that the game was going against the man, and he was not surprised, when the play ended, to hear that Allen had lost.

Allen turned away from the table. As he did so he came face to face with Hal. He started back, and gave the youth a keen look.

"Where have I met that fellow before?" he muttered to himself.

He had not recognized Hal with the false mustache.

The game went on, but Allen took no more interest, and soon disappeared from the room.

Hal was about to follow, when a tall man stepped up to him, and tapped him on the shoulder.

"I want to have a talk with you, my friend," he said, in a low tone. "Come this way, please."

Somewhat astonished, the youth followed the man into a side apartment.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I want to know what your game is," was the cool response. "You haven't put up a cent, and that mustache of yours is false. I have an idea you are a spy."

CHAPTER XXII.
HAL MEETS LAURA SUMNER

Hal was somewhat taken aback by the statement made to him by one of the proprietors of the resort he had entered, but he quickly recovered.

"It is true the mustache is false, but it is not true that I am spying upon you," he said.

And this was true, for he cared nothing as to what took place in the resort so long as it did not appertain to Mr. Allen or Hardwick.

"That's easy enough to say, but how can you prove it?" was the short reply.

"Is it necessary to prove it?" returned Hal, just as quickly.

"Well, the case is just here, we don't want spies around here."

Hal could not help but smile.

"Do you know how I learned of this resort?" he asked.

"One of the dudes who didn't know how to keep his mouth shut told you, I suppose."

"No. An old apple-stand fellow told me."

"Is that true?"

"It is. So if the police wanted to stop you they could easily do so."

The proprietor muttered something under his breath.

"Well, you are sure you don't intend to give us away, then?"

"I do not."

"What brought you?"

"Curiosity concerning a fellow who played here."

"What fellow?"

"Mr. Caleb Allen."

"What! the man who just left?"

"Yes."

"Are you spotting him?"

"Excuse me, but that's my business. He has gone, and with your permission I will follow him."

The man looked at Hal for a second in silence.

"I'll trust you, for you have the right kind of eyes. You are following Allen for a purpose, but that's none of my affair. When you go just forget all about this place, unless you want to come in some time and try a hand."

"Thank you, I don't gamble," and without another word Hal left the room and hurried down stairs.

A hasty look into the various rooms convinced him that Allen had left the building, and then Hal lost no time in doing likewise.

What he had seen disgusted him beyond measure.

"How men can stay up all night and gamble in a place like that I can't understand," he murmured to himself. "I would rather be in bed and asleep. And it stands to reason the proprietors have the best of it, otherwise how could they run such a gorgeous house?"

Hal was soon on the snow-covered pavement.

He looked up and down, but Allen was nowhere in sight.

"It is no use to try to follow him any farther to-night," thought the youth. "I may as well get home and get some sleep – but, no, I can't do that. I must find a new boarding house, and go under a different name for the present. One thing is sure. Mr. Allen can't gamble in that fashion with what he makes honestly. He and Hardwick are a couple of deep rogues, and that's all there is to it, and Dick Ferris and that Macklin are their tools."

It was now too late to hunt up a regular boarding place, and upon second thought Hal resolved for the present to put up at one of the cheap hotels.

This he did, and slept soundly until morning.

When he slouched into the office at ten o'clock, still wearing the false mustache and Jack McCabe's hat, Mr. Sumner did not at first recognize him.

"What do you want?" he asked, from the book-keeper's desk, where he was busy instructing the new man in his work.

"I wish to see you in private, sir," was Hal's reply, and he winked.

For a second Mr. Sumner was puzzled. Then he smiled and led the way to his private office.

"Hal, I hardly knew you!" he burst out, the instant the door was closed.

"I hardly know myself, Mr. Sumner," was the youth's reply.

"The mustache is almost a complete disguise."

"I have news for you. Mr. Allen was not in Philadelphia yesterday."

"No? Where, then?"

"He spent a great part of the time in the evening in a gambling-house uptown."

"You are certain?"

"Yes, sir. I followed him into the place and watched him play."

"Humph! Did he win?"

"No, sir, he lost heavily."

Horace Sumner gave something like a groan.

"I am being deceived on all sides," he said. "If a man is a gambler he is often something worse. How about Hardwick?"

"I have reason to believe he went home last night. He gave a note to Dick Ferris and I followed Ferris. It nearly cost me my life."

And Hal related the particulars. Horace Sumner listened with keen interest. When he learned how Hal had been struck down, and afterward found himself in the icy vat, he shuddered.

"That will never do," he cried. "Hal, you must give up running such risks. I would not have you lose your life for all the bonds in New York. We will call in one of the regular detectives and – "

"No, Mr. Sumner, I started on my theory and I wish to finish the work. I did not know how desperate the men were with whom I have to deal, but in the future I shall be prepared for them. And I wish to ask a favor."

"What is it?"

"Will you advance me a little money? I may need it in traveling around, and my disguises may cost – "

"You shall have what you please, Hal. You are the only one I have in the office to depend on, and you are doing a remarkable work for one so young."

"If you will let me have, say ten or fifteen dollars – "

"Here are fifty," returned Mr. Sumner, handing over five crisp ten-dollar bills. "When you need more let me know."

"But – but I won't want this much!" gasped Hal.

"Yes, you will, if you are determined to go ahead. Don't let dollars stand in the way. Why, I have already spent one hundred and fifty dollars on the detectives, and they have done absolutely nothing."

Without another word Hal pocketed the bills. As he did so there was a knock on the door, then it was flung open and a girl rushed in.

She was apparently a year or two younger than Hal, and had blue eyes, light hair, and a remarkably pretty face. She rushed up to Mr. Sumner and kissed him.

"Oh, papa, why didn't you tell me?" she burst out, with something like a sob in her voice.

"Tell you what, pet?" asked Mr. Sumner with a shadow on his face.

"About all those bonds being gone. Lucy Cavaler mentioned it to me this morning when I called on her to go shopping. Have you got them back?"

"Not yet, pet."

"And who stole them?"

"I don't know. This young man and I have just been trying to find out."

The girl turned to Hal, who took off his hat, bowed, and then blushed furiously.

"This is Mr. Hal Carson, one of my employees," went on Mr. Sumner. "Hal, this is my daughter, Laura."

Laura Sumner extended her hand, and Hal took it. Their eyes met, and from that instant the two were friends.

"You are trying to help papa find the stolen bonds?" she said.

"Yes, Miss Sumner."

"He has done some excellent work on the case," said Mr. Sumner. "He is disguised now, as you can see," he added, with a faint smile, which made poor Hal blush again.

"Oh, I trust you get the bonds back for papa," cried Laura. "If you do, I'll be friends with you for life."

"It's a whack – I mean a bargain," returned Hal, and then both laughed.

"But you haven't told me why you did not mention the matter to me, papa," went on Laura, turning to Horace Sumner.

"I did not wish to worry you, pet. Since your mother died you have had enough on your shoulders running the household."

"And haven't you had more than your share, papa, with troubles in the office, and trying to find a trace of baby Howard?"

"I have given up all hopes of ever learning of the fate of my little boy," sighed Mr. Sumner, and as he spoke a tear stole down his cheek, which he hastily brushed away.