The long journey came to an end at last. It was nearly midday when the train rolled into the Grand Central depot at Forty-second street. Jerry got out and followed the jostling crowd to the street.

Jerry stood for five minutes, not knowing which way to turn or of whom to ask information. Pa.s.sersby jostled him roughly, and a policeman made a warning gesture with his club. This frightened Jerry. He was about to retreat to the shelter of the depot, when a tall, well-dressed lad, with a handsome, refined face, suddenly caught him by the arm.

"By Jove! is this really you?" he exclaimed, joyfully.

Jerry looked up.

"Tom Fordham!" he gasped.

The other laughed.

"That's who it is. I'm glad you knew me. I recognized you right away.

I'm most awfully glad to see you, Jerry. But what under the sun brought you here? Hold on; come into the station. We can talk there."

He led the way to a comparatively quiet spot, and Jerry, nothing loath, poured out the whole story. Never was there a more surprised lad than Tom.

"I can't get over it," he exclaimed. "The idea of Brick getting into such a sc.r.a.pe. But we'll get him out, Jerry. It's awfully lucky that I met you. I was going up to Yonkers to see a fellow, but I'll drop that now. You see, it's holiday time, and college don't keep. I thought Brick would get you fellows to go into the woods with him. He promised to write to me, but he never did it. His running away made a big sensation.

At first his guardian was mad about the money, and then he got worried, and----"

"You don't mean to say that Brick ran away?" asked Jerry.

"Oh! didn't you know it?" exclaimed Tom, in surprise. "I don't suppose I ought to have said anything about it, then. But come on. I'll take you downtown. Mr. Glendale is at dinner now. We'll go to his office later on."

So the two lads sallied out from the depot. What followed was like a fleeting panorama to Jerry, but it was a very dazzling and fascinating one.

At length, after a ride on the elevated road, they reached the City Hall. Through narrow Na.s.sau street they walked, and then through to Broadway. Tom led his companion into a great stone building, many stories high.

The rode half-way to the top in an elevator. When it stopped, they got out and traversed a long corridor. At the further end was a gla.s.s door, and on this Jerry read:

"FREDERICK GLENDALE, "Law Offices."

Tom entered boldly, and Jerry followed.

The sole occupant of the front room was a young man who was bending over a typewriter.

"Hullo, Martin," said Tom. "Mr. Glendale here?"

"No; he left town yesterday morning."

"Do you know where he went?"

"Somewhere up north, I think," replied the clerk. "It's private business. That's all he said to me."

"Can you tell me if there has been a fellow named Raikes here to see him this week?" Tom went on, eagerly.

"Yes; pretty nearly every day. His last visit was yesterday morning. I think he has something to do with Mr. Glendale's journey. Can I do anything for you, Mr. Fordham?"

"Nothing," said Tom. "Much obliged, Martin."

He beckoned to Jerry, and they left the room. They did not speak until they were out on Broadway.

"Just a few hours too late," exclaimed Tom. "But we'll save the money yet. Now for the telegraph office. You must send a dispatch to Kingman.

Then we'll catch the first express train to Bangor. I'm going up there with you to help get Brick out of the sc.r.a.pe."

CHAPTER x.x.xIII.

A TREACHEROUS PLOT.

In the Rock House one day was just like another. The time dragged slowly by. It was a period of indescribable misery and monotony to Brick and Hamp. When they were able to forget Jerry's fate they were tormented by fear for their own.

Nearly a week pa.s.sed. Then, at sunset on a Wednesday evening, Raikes returned. Bogle, Sparwick, and the boys were squatted on the ground about the fire, eating supper.

Raikes responded to their greeting, and sat down beside them. His face told nothing, but there was a subdued twinkle of satisfaction in his eyes.

"Fill my plate, Sparwick," he said, "and give me a cup of coffee. I'm hungry as a bear."

"How far have you come?" asked Bogle.

"From Wytopitlock," was the reply. "It's a little station on the Canadian Pacific, a few miles east of Kingman."

Brick was unable to hold in any longer.

"Is it all right?" he exclaimed, eagerly. "Have you got the money? Are you going to let us go now?"

Raikes did not reply. Instead, a bewildered look flashed across his face. He had just discovered Jerry's absence.

"Where is the other lad?" he asked. "I hope you haven't let him get away."

Bogle briefly told the sad story. Raikes was visibly affected.

"I'm sorry it happened," he said. "I didn't want any bloodshed to be mixed up in this affair. Still, it was an accident, and the lad was to blame himself. We'll have to explain to Glendale that he escaped, and could not be found. You see, I told him that we had three prisoners to turn over instead of one."

"Then you have really made a success of your errand, Silas?" asked Bogle.

Raikes smiled as he took a deep draught of coffee, and attacked the food on his plate.

"I couldn't have done better," he replied. "Everything is fixed, and there is no danger of a slip. It took two or three days' work to bring Glendale to terms. He was pugnacious at first, and used some pretty rough language--talked about the police, and all that sort of thing. I told him to go ahead, and he saw that I couldn't be bluffed or scared off. After I convinced him that the lad's life depended on the payment of the money he came down gracefully."

"Did he cable to France?" asked Bogle.

"No; it wasn't necessary. He had money at his disposal, and he didn't want to alarm the lad's parents. The long and short of it is that Mr.

Frederick Glendale is now quartered at a tavern in Wytopitlock, and he has with him the sum of fifteen thousand dollars in banknotes."

Sparwlck and Bogle fairly gasped for breath. Their eyes and flushed faces showed how excited they were.