"It's about twenty-four hours since she started," replied Bart. "Even a comparatively slow train would make it in that time. If you'll give us Mrs. Kenfield's address," he went on, "we'll wire her."

The neighbor gave the boys the desired information and, since there was nothing more they could do at the closed house, save stare at the tight shutters, they started for the nearest telegraph office.

"If I can do anything for you boys, let me know," the woman said to them as they were leaving. "I am Mrs. Rowland. I have two boys of my own, and, if you need any further help in locating your chum, they will be glad to aid you."

They thanked Mrs. Rowland, but for whose information they would have been more in the dark than they were, regarding Ned's strange disappearance.

"I had no idea people were so neighborly in New York," said Frank. "I read somewhere that in this city no one ever knew who lived next door to him."

"Lucky we got some sort of a starting point," said Bart. "Now to send the telegram."

A few minutes later they found a place where scores of instruments were clicking away and forwarded this message, addressed to Mrs. Kenfield:

"Ned's chums arrived to find house closed. No trace of Ned.

Understand he went away with you. Can you tell us where he is now?"

They told the clerk they would call for the answer in about two hours, as they wanted to allow plenty of time for a reply.

"Meanwhile we'll go and get dinner," suggested Fenn.

"Let's check our valises somewhere," proposed Bart. "I'm tired lugging mine around."

"Leave 'em at the station where our trunks are," Frank put in. "We may have to start back home soon, and they'll be handy for us there."

"Too far away," objected Fenn. "Here's a good place."

He pointed to a newsstand built under one of the elevated railroad stations, where a sign was displayed, announcing small parcels would be checked for ten cents. They left their grips, receiving little bra.s.s tags in return, and then went to a restaurant where they had dinner.

"Lets go back and see if there's an answer to our message," suggested Fenn, after they had walked around a bit. Back they went to the telegraph office, and found there was a reply. Bart's hands trembled slightly as he tore open the envelope. The message from Mrs. Kenfield was a short one. It read:

"Ned started for home after leaving me."

"Might have known it," remarked Frank.

"Of course," put in Fenn. "What else could he do? He wouldn't stay in New York, where he doesn't know a soul, after his aunt and uncle left."

"Then I s'pose the only thing for us to do is to follow Ned back to Darewell," suggested Bart. "Here's an end to our holiday. Too bad!"

"Why need we go back?" asked Frank. "We're here in New York. It may be many years before we have another chance like this. We have enough money to last us a week or more, even if we have to stay at a hotel."

"What do you mean?" asked Fenn.

"Why not spend a week in New York anyhow?" Frank went on. "It's too bad Ned has gone home. He'd stay with us if he was here. We can go to a cheap hotel and have almost as much fun as if we were at Ned's uncle's house. What's the use going right back home?"

"I believe you're right," came from Bart. "We'll stay a while and see what New York looks like. Might as well spend some of that money for hotel bills as anything else. I've heard they rob you in New York, but I guess we can look out for ourselves."

"Let's telegraph back to Darewell," suggested Fenn.

"What for?" asked Bart.

"To see if Ned got there safely. If he did maybe he'll come here and join us."

"Good idea," commented Frank. "Write out another message. Send it to Ned's father. He'll get it quicker at the bank than Ned would at the house."

A little later this message, signed by Bart, went clicking over the wires to Darewell.

"Is Ned home? His uncle and aunt called away unexpectedly and he started back for Darewell. Answer."

The boys said they would call in an hour for a reply. They spent the time wandering about the streets. Now, as it was approaching evening, the thoroughfares were filled with hurrying throngs. They found the telegram from Darewell waiting for them when they went back to the office. It was from Mr. Wilding and read:

"Ned not home. What is the trouble? Can't you locate him in New York? Try. Will come on in the morning."

"Ned has disappeared," said Bart in strange tones, as he let the telegram fall to the floor.

CHAPTER XIX

DOWN THE ROPE

When Ned started on a run up the street, after seeing in the station the man he believed was seeking to arrest him, he had no definite idea where he was going. All he cared about was to get out of the inspector's sight.

"I can't go back home," he reasoned as he hurried on, seeking to lose himself in the crowd. "If I do they'll arrest me as soon as I leave the train. I can't bring disgrace on my father that way, though I am innocent of any intentional wrong-doing. Besides if it was known that I bought this stock it might injure his reputation at the bank. They might think he advised me to do it, and the bank doesn't allow its officials to do that sort of business."

Ned slowed his pace down from a run to a rapid walk, as he noticed that several persons were looking curiously at him. He did not want to attract attention.

"What had I better do?" he asked himself. "If I stay here I'm liable to arrest any moment. If I go home I'm sure of it as soon as I get off the train, as every one at the depot knows me. But they don't here," he added, as a thought came to him. "That's one good thing. I'm an utter stranger in New York. The only persons who know me are my uncle and aunt. They are far enough off. Of course there's Mary the servant girl, but I guess she's not liable to meet me. Besides, she wouldn't know the police wanted me. Then there's Mr. Skem, but I guess he's too busy himself, dodging the officers, to be found in this vicinity.

"That's the best thing to do," Ned decided. "I'll stay in New York until--well until something happens. But the worst of it is I can't even write to the folks at home. I can't let them know what has occurred. I wonder what the boys will do when they come and find the house closed? If I send a letter to father the postal authorities can trace where it came from and get me. A telegram would be as bad. I'm just like a prisoner who can't communicate with his friends. The only thing to do is to stick it out until something happens. If they would only arrest Skem & Skim maybe their testimony would clear me. But I guess they're not likely to catch them. I've got to stick it out alone and it's going to be hard work."

By this time Ned felt he was far enough away from the depot to render capture in the immediate future out of the question. He felt he could risk walking a little slower, for it was no joke to hurry along a mile or more carrying his valise, even though it was not a large one.

"I believe I'm hungry," he said, as he came in front of a small restaurant. He had taken no food since breakfast and it was now about four o'clock in the afternoon. "I'll feel better after I've eaten.

Besides I've got to stay somewhere to-night. I must look for a hotel."

He did feel more encouraged after he had dined, and, on inquiring of the cashier in the restaurant, where he could find a cheap but decent hotel, was directed to the Imperial a few blocks distant, back toward the station. Ned thought this would be safe enough.

"I'd better take an account of stock," he remarked to himself as he started for the hotel. "Most of my clothes are in the trunk, and so is the check dad gave me to have uncle cash. I can't get at that, and I guess I wouldn't if I could. I'd have to endorse it to cash it, and when I wrote my name whoever saw it might tell the police."

Ned's imagination probably made things seem worse than they really were, but he was unaccustomed to city ways, and the memory of the inspector's words, and the angry men who had lost money through Skem & Skim acted as an incentive for him to do everything possible to avoid arrest, which he felt would follow any disclosure of his ident.i.ty, such as would result from endorsing a check.

"The only clothes I've got are on me," Ned went on, continuing the process of "stock taking." He had a change of underwear and some clean collars, cuffs and handkerchiefs in his valise, and about ten dollars in bills. In his pocketbook he carried five dollars and there was a little change in his overcoat.

"I've got to sail pretty close to the wind," he told himself. "Fifteen dollars isn't going very far in New York. I must get work to do until this thing blows over, or something happens. That's what I'll do. I'll look for a job to-morrow."

The hotel at which Ned arrived a few minutes later did not look very inviting. Still, he reflected, he was not in a position to be particular.