Part 33 (2/2)
”Is there anything special to do just now?”
”I must have those papers written up that Hardwick was at work on. The books I can write up myself.”
”Then, with your permission, I'll write up the papers and then begin my hunt.”
”Very well. But mind and keep out of trouble.”
Hal smiled, and turned at once to the desk. A strange feeling filled his breast. He was really going to turn detective--he, a country boy, and that, too, in New York.
”It sounds like the wildest kind of a romance,” he thought to himself.
”But it isn't; it's sober truth, and I may find it a mighty hard truth before I get through.”
He fairly flew at the work, and by two o'clock it was finished. He handed it to Mr. Sumner.
”That is excellent,” said the broker, glancing over the written pages.
”And now I suppose you are ready to go?”
”If you are willing, sir.”
”There is nothing more to be done to-day. To-morrow I shall get a first-cla.s.s book-keeper whom I happen to know, to take Hardwick's place.”
In a minute more Hal was off. He knew not exactly in what direction to go, but thought he would cross Broadway and take the Sixth Avenue elevated cars to Fifty-third Street.
As he stepped on the sidewalk in front of Trinity Church, which stands at the beginning of Wall Street, he happened to glance up, and not far away saw Hardwick.
The ex-book-keeper was smoking a cigar and scowling. He did not see Hal, and the youth soon put himself where he was not likely to be seen.
Five minutes pa.s.sed. Then Hardwick began to move slowly up Broadway, casting sharp glances to his right and left. Hal slowly followed, keeping several people between himself and the man he was shadowing.
At length Hardwick stopped at the corner of Cedar Street. Here he was joined by d.i.c.k Ferris, and the two at once began an animated conversation, which Hal managed to overhear.
”Got the bounce?” were the first words he heard. ”Well, that's rich, Hardwick.”
”I don't see the point,” growled the ex-book-keeper. ”I wish I had fixed the young tramp!”
”He seems to be worrying us pretty bad,” said Ferris. ”But, say, how about that money I was to have?”
”I can't give it to you now.”
”Why not?”
”I haven't got it.”
”Tell that to your grandmother!”
”It's a fact. Old Sumner made me fork over every cent I had about me.”
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