"I knew there was something we should have attended to, but I couldn't think what it was," Bart exclaimed.

"Have you any news?" asked Mr. Wilding eagerly after explaining he had obtained the address of the chums from the police sergeant who offered to telephone to them.

"Just a little," replied Fenn and he told of the finding of Ned's valise. Then all went over the situation, but the prospect seemed no brighter than ever.

"I'll tell you what we ought to do," declared William.

"What?" asked Mr. Wilding anxiously.

"We ought to make a regular search of all the lodging houses and other places. I've slept in lots of 'em. That's where men and boys go when they have only a little money, and I guess your son hadn't much when he lost his valise."

"I believe you're right!" exclaimed Ned's father. "It is a good suggestion. I will hire some private detectives to help in the search."

"And I'll do all I can," said William, whose story had been told to Mr.

Wilding.

"My poor boy," Ned's father murmured. "I wonder where he can be."

"Don't you fret!" exclaimed William. "We'll find him for you," and he spoke so hopefully that Mr. Wilding smiled for the first time since he had left home.

It was arranged that he would stay at a hotel near police headquarters while the four boys would remain at the Imperial as there was a bare chance Ned would return.

"Now here's where I get busy," declared William, as they left the police station.

CHAPTER XXVI

Ca.s.sIDY CATCHES NED

A systematic search of the lodging houses was begun that afternoon. But it was harder and more baffling work than any one had imagined.

John Newton gave them unexpected aid. As he had much time to himself he offered to go with them to the different lodging houses in the evenings, and give his whistling imitations of birds.

"What good will that do?" asked Bart. "Does he think Ned will hear him and come from hiding?"

"Not that," explained Fenn, to whom John had told his scheme. "But when he's whistling there's sure to be a crowd around him, and, if Ned is in the place, he'll join the others and we may see him. I think it's a good plan."

The others did also, and, for several evenings John amused the inmates of the lodging houses with his whistling. As Fenn had said, crowds gathered about him, and the three chums looked eagerly through them for a sight of Ned.

It was perhaps one of the best plans the boys could have adopted, for in their eagerness to hear the "Bird Warbler" the unfortunate lads and men who were forced to the shelter of the places crowded close up around John Newton. In this way Bart and his companions could scrutinize at short range nearly every person in the throng.

"Aren't you getting tired of it?" asked Bart one evening when they were starting out for a large lodging house on the Bowery.

"I don't mind it a bit," replied John. "I'd do more than this to help find Ned. Besides, it's a good advertis.e.m.e.nt for me. You see the fellows in these places hear me, and when they see my name on the theatrical bill boards they'll come in. You can't get too much advertising when you're an actor," and John looked quite important.

There was a larger crowd than usual in the lodging house that night.

John made his way to the front of the room. At first no one paid any attention to the entrance of himself and his friends. But, as soon as John began an imitation of a mocking bird, there was a stir.

"That sounds just like it used to when I was a boy!" exclaimed an old man. "Many and many's the mornin' I've heard them birds. Can you do a song-sparrow imitation, sonny?"

"Sure," replied John, and he trilled some sweet high notes.

"My but that's fine!"

From that John proceeded to imitate a robin and a bob-o-link. He had scarcely finished with the last before there was a stir in one corner of the room. It seemed as if some one was trying to get out.

"Maybe Ned's there!" exclaimed Bart to Fenn. "Go over and take a look."

Fenn edged his way through the crowd, but found, instead of some one trying to get out, it was a man trying to make his way closer to where the whistler was. From his appearance the man seemed to have just awakened from a sound sleep on a couple of chairs.

"Where are they?" he exclaimed. "Let me get at 'em!"

"What's the matter?" asked several.

"I want to catch those birds!" the recently awakened sleeper said, rubbing his eyes. "I can put 'em in cages and sell 'em. I haven't made any money lately, now's my chance. Get out of my way, can't you? I used to trap birds when I was a boy. These are fine singers."

John had not yet caught sight of the man making his way toward him. The "Warbler" was giving an imitation of a blackbird, and he managed to send out his notes with such skill that it really sounded as if the bird was in a different part of the room from where the whistler stood. The notes appeared to come from a window in the corner.

"I can get him! Look out!" cried the man.

He made a dash for the window, and at that, John, who was now aware of what was going on, changed the whistling to the notes of a bluebird.

This time the tones were so directed as to seem to come from a window on the other side of the room, and the man turned to make a dash in that direction.

"Why, there's two birds!" he exclaimed. "I'll catch 'em all!"

No sooner had he reached the second window than John changed the tune to that made by a bullfinch, and the man, listening, thought the bird was in the back of the apartment. He made his way there, the crowd parting to let him through, and laughing, the meanwhile, at the deluded man's actions.

John was concealed from view by the throng packed close about him, or the man would have discovered the trick at once. As it was he thought sure there were several birds in the room. When he got to the rear the notes of the feathered songster seemed more distinct than ever. The man climbed up on a chair to peer behind the window curtain, and, as he did so, John, whose vocal abilities were not alone limited to birds, let out a croak like a big frog.

"That's no bird!" exclaimed the man in disgust, as the crowd broke into a laugh at him. "Am I dreaming or what's the matter? Is this place haunted?"

Then he caught sight of John, who was just puckering up his lips to again imitate a bird.

"Oh, it's you, is it?" the man exclaimed. "Well you're a good one, all right, to fool me. I used to live in the woods and I know birds pretty well."

"That's where I learned to imitate 'em; in the woods," said John, glad of a chance to rest, for his lips and mouth were aching from the strain.

"Can you whistle tunes?" the man asked him.

"A little."

"Give us some music then. I like a good jolly song; and we'll join in the chorus."

Then John poured forth his melody in a series of popular songs, for he was a good whistler, aside from his power to mimic, and, for half an hour the lodging house rang with the voices of the men, led by John's shrill notes.