The Boy Broker Part 7

"And they're in the room now?"

"Yes."

"You're in luck, Bob. I'd like a chum as would slope and leave me a good suit."

"Well, I wouldn't. No more would you, Tom Flannery," said Bob, slightly indignant.

"I didn't mean nothin'," said Tom, apologizing for the offense which he saw he had given. "Of course, I wouldn't want n.o.body to slope and leave his truck with me."

"That's all right then, Tom," said Bob, forgivingly. "But now, what do you s'pose has become of him?"

"Well, it looks like he didn't go of his own free will, when he left everything behind him."

"Of course it does, and I know he didn't."

Bob related the story of Herbert's experience at the bank, on the morning when he secured the position.

"I don't like that duffer--what d'ye call him?"

"Felix Mortimer," repeated Bob. "I'm sure that's the name Herbert give me."

"Well, I'll bet that he's put up the job."

"I think so myself. You see he knew Randolph wasn't no city chap."

"That's so, and he knew he'd have the drop on him. But I don't just see, after all, how he could get away with him."

"Well, he might have run him into some den or other."

"And drugged him?"

"Well, perhaps so. There are piles of ways them fellers have of doin'

such jobs."

"I know they're kinder slick about it sometimes. But, say, Bob,"

continued Tom, earnestly, "what do you propose to do about it? He may be a prisoner."

"So he may, and probably is, if he is alive."

"Why, Bob, they wouldn't kill him, would they?"

"No, I don't suppose so, not if they didn't have to."

"Why would they have to do that?" asked Tom, with his eyes bulging out with excitement.

"Well, sometimes folks has to do so--them hard tickets will do 'most anything. You see, if they start in to make way with a feller, and they are 'fraid he'll blow on 'em, and they can't make no other arrangement, why then they just fix him so he won't never blow on n.o.body."

"Bob, it's awful, ain't it?" said Tom, with a shudder.

"Yes, it is. There are a pile of tough gangs in this city that don't care what they do to a feller."

"What do you s'pose they've done with your chum?" asked young Flannery, returning to the subject.

"Well, that's just what I want to know," said Bob, seriously. "I am going to try to find out, too. There are tough dens in them cross streets running out of the Bowery."

"They won't do worse nor keep him a prisoner, will they, Bob?"

"Probably they won't, not 'less they think he will blow on 'em. You see they've got to look out for themselves."

"That's so, Bob, but why couldn't they send him off somewhere so he couldn't blow on 'em?"

"They might do that, too."

"But they would get him so far away he couldn't get back to New York never, I suppose?"

"Yes, that's the idea. They might run him off to sea, and put him on an island, or somethin' like that. I can't say just what they might do if they have their own way. But the idea is this, Tom Flannery, _we must stop 'em_," said Bob, emphatically, "you and me. We've got to find out where he is, and rescue him."

"That's the boss idea, Bob," replied Tom, with emphasis. "But I don't see just how we're goin' to do it, do you?"

"Well, no, I can't see the whole game, not now. But we must commence, and when we get a few points, we can slide ahead faster."

"I wouldn't know how to commence."

"Well, I do; I thought that all out last night, and I'm only waiting till ten o'clock. Then I'll steer for the bank where Herbert worked."

"Bob, you beat all the boys I know of," said Tom, eying him with admiration. "None of 'em would ever think of doin' the things you do, and they couldn't do 'em if they did, that's all. And now you're goin'

to do the detective act!"

Tom stopped short here with a jerk, as if he had got to the end of his rope, and took a long breath. To "do the detective act" seemed to him the greatest possible triumph for a boy like himself. He looked upon his companion, therefore, with wonder and admiration.

Bob's plans for penetrating the mystery had, indeed, been carefully formed. He fearlessly undertook an enterprise from which most boys would have shrunk. This keen, bright street lad, however, was not of the shrinking kind. He did not turn away from encountering dangers, even the dangers of some dreadful den in which he feared our hero was now a prisoner.

[Ill.u.s.tration: TOM FLANNERY.]

During the forenoon he visited the banking house of Richard Goldwin and there found Felix Mortimer already installed in Herbert's place. This discovery confirmed his worst fears and intensified his alarm for the safety of his friend.

CHAPTER VIII.

FELIX MORTIMER AT THE BANK.

"Can I see the proprietor?" said a boy addressing a clerk at the counter of Richard Goldwin's bank. It was the morning after Herbert's mysterious disappearance.

"What is your name?" asked the clerk.

"Felix Mortimer," answered the boy.