Ned Wilding's Disappearance Part 22

Ned sprang from his bed and turned the key. The door flew open and a big man with a red moustache entered.

"Give me my money!" he demanded, striding up to Ned.

CHAPTER XXI

NED FLEES AGAIN

"I tell you I haven't your money!" exclaimed Ned. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean well enough! I had a lot of dollar bills under my pillow! You sneaked in and took them! I want my money!"

"And I tell you I haven't it and didn't take it!" Ned repeated. "This is my room, and you'd better get out of it!"

"Not until I have my money! Where is it?"

He lifted a pillow from Ned's bed. Under it were four one dollar bills which Ned had placed there before he went to sleep.

"Here's part of it, anyhow!" the man exclaimed. "I want the rest now!

Fork it over!"

"That's my money!" cried Ned, as the red-moustached man took the bills and stuffed them into his pocket.

"Your money! A likely story! Anybody with as much money as that would never stop in a place like this."

"How did you happen to stop here then?" asked Ned quickly.

"Me? Why young impudence, I'm the proprietor of this lodging house! I live here! That's why. Hey, Bill!" he called in a loud voice, "come here. There's trouble."

In answer to the summons a big man, evidently the night porter or watchman, came shuffling down the corridor.

"What's the trouble, boss?" he asked, and Ned began to believe the man had spoken the truth when he said he was the proprietor of the place.

"Why, here's a kid comes into my room when I'm asleep and takes my cash right from under my pillow. I wake up just in time to see him sneak back into his room and when I get him with the goods on him he has the impudence to deny it. There's part of the cash," and he showed Ned's money, "but I want the rest. Better call a policeman, Bill."

"All right, boss. Just as you say," and the porter shuffled off.

"Do you mean to say you're going to have me arrested on a charge of stealing your money?" asked Ned.

"That's what I am unless you give it up."

"But I didn't take it. It must have been some one else, if you really were robbed. Why don't you look in some of the other rooms along here?"

"Because I saw you come in here after you were in my room, and had your hand under my pillow."

"Couldn't you be mistaken?"

"Not much. I've been in this business too long. 'Tisn't the first time I've been robbed, but it's the first time I got the thief and I'm goin'

to make an example of you."

"You're making a big mistake," Ned said, trying to speak bravely, but the accusation, unjust as it was, coupled with his other misfortunes was almost too much for him.

"I'll take the chances on that. Who are you, anyhow? What's your name, and where'd you come from?"

Ned hesitated. If he gave his real name it might lead to trouble over the stock, in case the proprietor carried out the threat to have him arrested. He was not used to telling untruths and he was afraid if he gave a false name he would soon betray himself. Still it seemed the best thing to do and would harm no one save himself.

"My name's George Anderson," he said boldly. "Where I came from is none of your affair."

"Afraid to tell, eh? Well, the judge will soon have it out of you."

It was quite cold now, and Ned, standing half dressed as he was in the room, began to shiver. He put on his clothes.

"Guess that's a wise thing to do," the proprietor of the lodging house remarked. "You'll get a ride in the hurry-up wagon soon."

The words struck a chill of terror to Ned's heart. Must he spend the rest of the night in a cell? The man's manner showed no relenting. He either believed Ned had robbed him or was insisting on the charge for some reason of his own.

"Are you in earnest about this?" asked Ned, as he put on his hat and overcoat.

"You can make up your mind to that," was the man's answer. "It'll be the jail for yours, in a little while, if you don't give me back my money.

It isn't too late. I can fix it with the cop if you'll give up. Why look here, kid, they'll search you and find it on you. You haven't had time to hide it, and, besides, there's no place in this room. You must have it on you. Give it up and save trouble."

"I haven't your money," Ned said boldly. "Those bills you took from under the pillow were mine. You can search me now if you want to. That is all the money I have except a little change in my overcoat pocket,"

and he showed the man.

"That don't go with me. I'm sure you robbed me. I'll not search you or you'd say I was up to some game, and n.o.body ever said but what Jim Ca.s.sidy was honest, though he does keep a cheap lodging house. No, sir, the cop'll search you."

Ned knew the officer would find nothing--except the stock certificate.

There was the trouble. Ned thought every officer in New York had a description of it and was looking for the boy who carried it. No, he couldn't allow himself to be searched.

"It's cold!" exclaimed Ca.s.sidy suddenly, as he shivered in his long nightrobe. "I'm goin' to get dressed. Better not try to run or I'll nab you. I'll be in the next room."

He went into his own apartment and Ned could hear him putting on his clothes. By the grunts and puffs that ensued he judged Ca.s.sidy was having hard work, as he was a large man, and putting on a shirt was no easy matter.

Then a daring plan came into Ned's mind. In spite of the excitement caused by the proprietor's entrance into his room and the loud talking that followed the accusation, none of the other lodgers had gotten up.

Even sending the porter for a policeman had not excited any curiosity.

Ned resolved to make his escape if possible. He thought he could slip past Ca.s.sidy's door and down the stairs before Bill would return with a policeman. He got upon the bed and looked over the part.i.tion into Ca.s.sidy's room. The proprietor was putting on his shoes and had his back to the door. There was a light at the far end of the corridor, illuminating it dimly.

Ned took off his own shoes, and, carrying them in his hand stepped to the door of his room. He stole softly into the corridor and was about to slip past Ca.s.sidy's room when the door of the apartment opposite his opened just a crack and a hoa.r.s.e voice whispered:

"Hey, cully! If youse wants t' make a git-away, go de other way an' down de back stairs. Youse kin slip around through de alley an' inter de street 'fore de cop comes. I heard what youse said and ye sounds honest, an' dat's more'n ye kin say fer a lot in dis joint. Quick, some one's comin' up de front stairs!"

Then, before Ned could thank his unknown friend, the door was shut. Ned could hear Ca.s.sidy getting up from the chair on which he had seated himself to lace his shoes. There was not a moment to spare.

Making no sound in his stocking feet, Ned hurried down the dark corridor, away from the front of the building. He had to trust almost entirely to feeling, as the gleam from the single lamp farther toward the front stairs did not penetrate thus far. He did not even know where the rear flight was, but trusted to luck to find them. With his hand stretched out in front of him, to avoid running into any obstructions he went on as fast as he could. Suddenly he turned a corner in the pa.s.sage and saw a dim light. Then he observed a flight of stairs leading downward. He listened a moment. Behind him he could hear the tramp of heavy feet, and guessed that Bill had returned with the policeman.