Boy Broker; Or, Among the Kings of Wall Street

  CHAPTER XV.

  BOB AND HERBERT MEET.

  "Well, I can't understand it," said Felix, as he and the old fence cameup from the cellar. "He certainly isn't down there."

  "No, he ain't here, that's sure," replied Gunwagner; "but if it was thenewsboy, you can be sure he will show up again in a way not very goodfor us."

  "So I think," assented Mortimer.

  "Then we must capture him, that's all."

  "I wish we could. You see he might go to old Goldwin again, and tell himhe saw me here."

  "Yes, or go to the police headquarters and raise a row," suggestedGunwagner, gloomily.

  "I didn't think of that. Well, as you say, the only thing for us to dois to capture him and get him where he won't make trouble for us."

  "The whole game will be lost, and we will be pulled by the police unlesswe do so."

  "You might's well count your game lost, then," said Bob to himself,for he had now renewed hope of carrying through his scheme. But he wasnearly paralyzed with pain, from the cramped and uncomfortable positionin which he had remained so long. He felt, however, that he was doing agreat detective act, so he bore up under his sufferings with heroicfortitude.

  "Suppose the police should drop on us, and find Randolph in the cellar?"suggested young Mortimer.

  The thought evidently alarmed old Gunwagner. His face and whole mannershowed that it did.

  "If they should do that, we would go to Sing Sing," returned he, grimly.

  Felix Mortimer possessed an extremely cool nerve, but the words "SingSing" did not fall upon his ears like sweet music.

  "I wish we could get him out of the way," said he, with manifestanxiety. "It must be done tomorrow."

  "There's no time to lose, I feel sure. But what shall be done with him?"

  "He must be put where he will never blow on us."

  "Of course he must."

  "It's a bad job--a dirty, bad job--that's what I call it. I only wishyou'd kept away from me with your devilish scheme," said the oldvillain, petulantly.

  "It's no time to talk about that now," returned Mortimer, coolly. "Youare in for it as well as I, so we must work together."

  "We must, must we?" hissed the old man, wickedly.

  "Yes," said Mortimer, with a determined manner, that made the old outlawcower and cringe. Felix Mortimer possessed the stronger character of thetwo, and, now he was aroused, Gunwagner was subservient to his will.

  "Unless you show yourself a man now, I will leave you to fight it outalone," continued Felix. "I can take care of myself. Randolph is on yourhands, and here the police will find him."

  Low, profane mutterings from the old culprit's mouth now filled the air.He was cornered, and Mortimer had him at his mercy. Gunwagner saw thisnow, and commenced planning to get our young hero out of the way.

  An exceedingly interesting conversation this proved to the youngdetective, who carefully gathered in every word.

  "Something is liable to drop with you fellers before long," said he tohimself. "This detective business is mighty excitin', if it's all likethis is. I wonder what Tom Flannery would say now, if he could take thisall in the same way I'm doin' it!"

  "I s'pose we can run him off to sea," said Gunwagner, at length. "That'sthe only way I know of to get him out of the way."

  "Then why not do that?" replied Mortimer.

  "It will cost a lot of money."

  "Better pay out the money than go to Sing Sing."

  The old fence looked daggers at the author of this remark, but evidentlythought it best to make no direct reply.

  "I wish we could get him away tonight," continued young Mortimer, in away that exasperated Gunwagner.

  "Well, you're mighty liable to be accommodated," thought Bob, as a broadgrin played over his face, despite the suffering he was enduring. "I'mgoin' to take a hand in this business myself, and I'll try my best tohelp you fellers through with this job."

  "No, it can't be done tonight," said the old fence, gruffly; "but I'llsee what can be done tomorrow."

  "Fix it so he will never get back here to New York again," saidMortimer, heartlessly.

  "Of course; that's the only thing to do."

  "Remember, there is no time to lose, for if we get tripped up here, thewhole game will be up at the bank, and all our trouble will come tonothing."

  "I understand that; but you have said nothing about the outlook at thebank."

  "I have had no chance. Some one has been here all the evening."

  "You have the chance now."

  "So I have; but there is nothing to say yet. You don't expect me to roba bank in one day, do you?"

  "No, of course not; but what are the chances for carrying out thescheme?"

  "Ah, ha!" said the young detective to himself; "bank robbing, is it?That's the scheme. Well, this detective business beats me. I guessnobody don't often get a more excitin' case than this one is--that'swhat I think."

  After a little further discussion between the two crooks, Mortimer leftthe den and started for home. Bob suspected that he felt very happy toget away from there; and Bob was quite right, for, as a matter of fact,the young scoundrel had become so alarmed over the prospect, that hefelt very uneasy about remaining a minute longer than was absolutelynecessary. When he had gone, the old fence closed and bolted the doors,and then passed into a rear room, where he retired to his bed.

  When all had been quiet for perhaps the space of fifteen or twentyminutes, the young detective crawled out of his box and straightenedhimself out. He had, however, been cramped up so long that this was notso easily done. But matters of so great moment were before him now, thathe could not think of aches and pains. He learned about the location ofthe trap door, when the old fence and young Mortimer went into thecellar to look for him.

  On his hands and knees Bob cautiously proceeded, searching on eitherside of him for the door. It was so dark that he could see nothing, andas the room was filled with chairs, old boxes, and so on, he found it noeasy matter to navigate under such circumstances, especially as he knewthat the slightest noise would prove fatal to his scheme.

  At length his hand rested upon the fastening of the trap door, and tohis horror he found it locked. If the room had seemed dark before to theyoung detective, it was now most oppressively black. What to do, whichway to turn, he did not know. The doors leading to the street werelocked, he had no keys about him, and no means of producing a light.

  "This is the worst go I've struck yet," said Bob to himself, as hemeditated over his situation. "Jest as I thought everything was allfixed, this blamed old lock knocks me out. Well, I've pulled throughpretty good so far, and I won't give it up yet. I may strike an idea,"he continued, undismayed, and then commenced prowling stealthily aboutthe room, in search of something--anything that would serve his purpose.

  He thought if he could find the key to the hall door he would try tomake his escape from the building; and, once out, he could get matches,and whatever else he needed to aid him in carrying out his scheme to agrand success. But he was no more fortunate in this effort than he hadbeen in hunting for the key to the trap door.

  He searched, too, every nook and corner for a match, but failed utterlyto find one, or anything to keep his courage good. The situation beganto look alarming to him. He was now as much a prisoner as HerbertRandolph.

  "I wonder what Tom Flannery would do if he was in my place?" musedthe young detective, as he sat upon the floor, somewhat depressed inspirits. "I think he'd just lay down and bawl and throw up the wholegame, that's what Tom Flannery would do. But I ain't goin' to throw upno game till it's lost, not ef Bob Hunter knows himself. There ain't butone thing to do now, and that's to go into old Gunwagner's bedroom, andtake them keys outer his pocket, that's what I think. Ef he was towake up, tho', and catch me at it--well, I guess I wouldn't be in thedetective business no more. But--what's that noise?" said he to himself,suddenly becoming aware of a strange sound.

  Our young detective felt a cold chill creep over him. His first t
houghtwas that the old fence was coming into his presence, and would of coursecapture him and punish him most inhumanly. But as the slight noisecontinued, and Gunwagner did not appear, Bob took courage, and listenedkeenly for developments. Presently the sound came nearer, and now agleam of light shone up through a crack in the floor.

  "Can it be Vermont?" said Bob to himself, hardly believing his own eyes.

  Still nearer came the light.

  "He is climbing the stairs, as sure's I'm alive," said Bob, almostovercome with joy.

  In the trap door was a small knot hole, about an inch and a half indiameter. Through this opening the light now shone distinctly, and itwas most welcome to the eyes of our young detective. A pressure was nowbrought to bear upon the door from the under side, but it only yieldedso far as the fastening would allow.

  "Is that you, Vermont?" whispered Bob through the knot hole.

  No answer was given.

  Herbert Randolph had never considered himself in any degreesuperstitious. But what could this be but Bob Hunter's spirit?

  "Don't be afraid," said the young detective, who imagined Herbert wouldfind it difficult to realize that he was there. "It's Bob Hunter. Iain't got no card with me, or I'd send it down to you."

  This remark sounded so much like Bob that young Randolph no longerdoubted his own senses.

  "Bob Hunter!" exclaimed he. "How in the world came you here, and whatare you doing?"

  "Yes, it's me, Vermont. But don't stop to ask no questions now. I'm hereto help you get out, but this blamed old door is locked, and I hain'tgot no key, nor no light, nor nothin'."

  After exchanging a few words, Herbert took from his pocket a piece ofpaper. This he made into a taper, which he lighted and passed up throughthe knot hole to Bob. With this the latter lighted the gas; and now hefelt that he was in a position to be of some service to his friend.

  A careful search failed to reveal any keys. Then the two boys discussedthe situation, and presently Herbert passed a bent nail to the youngdetective, and instructed him how to operate on the lock, which speedilyyielded to the boy's efforts. In another instant the trap door wasthrown up, and, by a most unfortunate blunder, it fell back with atremendous crash.

  Herbert, however, emerged quickly from his cold, damp prison, with alook of consternation pictured upon his face. Both he and Bob knew thatold Gunwagner would be upon them in less than a minute, and they hastilyprepared to defend themselves.