The Missing Tin Box Part 36

Arriving at the very last of these, he ascended the front stoop and knocked loudly upon the door. There was no reply, and while he was waiting for some one to answer his summons, Hal managed to skulk up behind the other buildings and approach within hearing distance.

At last Ferris got tired of waiting, and he tried the door. It was unlocked, and, pushing it open, the tall boy entered.

Hal waited for a moment, and then, mounting the stoop, peered in at the door, which Ferris had left partly open.

As the youth had surmised, the hall-way was quite dark. He heard Ferris mounting the rickety stairs, and like a shadow he followed, fairly holding his breath, lest some sound might betray his presence.

Ferris mounted almost to the top of the tenement, and then hammered on a door in the rear.

"Come!" cried a voice from inside, and Ferris entered.

No sooner was the door closed than Hal approached it and applied his eye to the key-hole. He saw a small apartment, scantily furnished with a small cook-stove, a table, three chairs, and some kitchen utensils.

A man sat before the stove, smoking a short briar pipe. He was unshaved, but his face bore evidence of former gentility and manhood, in spite of the fact that it was now dissipated.

"Hullo, Ferris!" he exclaimed.

"How are you, Macklin?" returned the tall boy.

"Not very well, I can tell you," returned Macklin, removing his pipe and spitting into the stove. "I've got rheumatism, yer know."

"Rheumatism!" laughed Ferris. "More likely it's rumatism, Tommy."

"Don't give me any o' yer jokes, Ferris. Wot brings yer?"

"I've got a letter for you."

"From Hardwick?"

Ferris nodded.

"I thought I would hear from him before long. Hand it over."

Ferris did so. Macklin tore open the epistle and began to peruse it hastily. As he did so Ferris tried to glance over his shoulder.

"Here! none o' dat!" cried Macklin, savagely. "Wot's my business is my business."

He finished reading the letter and put it in his coat pocket. Then he pulled away on his pipe for a moment.

"Well?" said Ferris, by way of inquiry.

"Tell him it's all right if he doubles the figger."

"Makes the amount twice as large?"

"Dat's it. It's a ticklish piece o' business."

"What is the work, Macklin?" questioned Ferris, sitting down on the opposite side of the stove.

The man closed one eye.

"Hardwick knows," he replied, shortly.

"I know that," replied Ferris. "And I know something about this new deal, too."

"Wot do yer know?"

"Never mind. I know."

"Dat's all put on, Ferris; yer don't know a t'ing, see?" cried Macklin, with a laugh that sounded more like a croak.

d.i.c.k Ferris colored slightly.

"Hardwick said there was something new on," he explained, lamely.

"Yes, but he didn't tell yer wot it was."

Ferris arose, thinking that further attempts at pumping would be useless.

"Say, don't be in no hurry," went on Macklin. "Sit down an' git warmed up."

"I ain't cold."

Ferris started for the door, but the man pulled him back.

"How did yer make out wid Hardwick on dat last deal?" he asked.

"All right," responded the tall boy, hurriedly.

"Wot do you call all right?"

"That's my affair, Tommy."

"Don't git on yer high horse, Ferris."

"I can keep as mum as you can, Tommy, and don't you forget it."

"Did he give you more dan a hundred?"

"Is that what you got out of it?"

"Naw! I didn't git half o' dat."

"Hardwick is a close one."

"Dat's so. But some day he'll have ter pony up, yer see if he don't."

"I suppose it will be you who will squeeze him," said Ferris, with another laugh.