“HA! WHAT have we here?” said the robber chief, as he drew out first a certificate of stock in a New York bank.

Morton changed color.

“It is the property of a friend,” he said hurriedly.

“And that friend’s name is Armstrong—is it not so?”

“Yes,” he said, in a low voice.

When Tom heard the name Armstrong, all his doubts were removed. There was no longer a doubt that he had found the absconding clerk. But that was not his only object. He desired also to regain possession of the stolen securities, and they were in the hands of a powerful robber-chief, of whom he was himself the prisoner. Still he was not without hope.

The captain proceeded with his examination of the papers. They proved all to represent value, and could Mr. Armstrong have used them as collateral, he would have been able to avert his failure. Morton looked on with feverish anxiety while this examination was going on.

“May I have the papers back?” he asked nervously.

“Certainly not,” said the captain with emphasis.

“They will do you no good.”

“How do you know that?” demanded the bandit, fixing his eyes sternly upon his prisoner.

“You cannot negotiate them.”

“Can you?”

“No,” said Morton hesitatingly.

“How comes it then that you have them in your possession?” asked the captain searchingly.

“I hold them in trust,” answered Morton after a pause.

“And where is this Armstrong?”

“In New York.”

Morton wiped the perspiration from his brow. He had been forced to make admissions that might prove damaging to him. How did he know but that full particulars of his flight might have been printed, and fallen under the eyes of his fellow-prisoners? If so, he risked his freedom by what he had confessed. He determined to part company with them as soon as possible.

“I shall not give these papers back to you,” said the chief. “They don’t belong to you, it appears.”

“They were confided to me by Mr. Armstrong.”

“They are safer in my hands. But we have wasted time enough on this matter, Alonzo, conduct the prisoners into the building.”

Now was Tom’s opportunity.

He walked boldly up to the robber-chief and said:

“Captain, when you are at leisure, I should like to speak to you on business of importance.”

The captain, regarding his youthful appearance, answered with a smile:

“You are a young man to have business of importance.”

“It may be so,” said Tom, “but it is none the less true. I can say, also, that the business is of as much importance to you as to me.”

“Humph!” said the other, evidently surprised. “I doubt that. However, I will humor your whim, youngster. I will give you a chance to show whether you have spoken the truth. But take heed that you do not waste my time.”

“I shall not,” said Tom confidently. “What I have to say is for your advantage.”

A thought occurred to the captain.

This boy might have wealthy friends, and he might be intending to offer a ransom in return for his liberty. His words favored such a supposition, and the chief decided to grant his request.

“Alonzo,” he said, “conduct the other prisoners to the place of secrecy. This boy will remain with me.”

Alonzo, a stalwart member of the band, bowed in token of obedience.

“Come,” he said, turning to Gates, Morton, and the German; “follow me.”

“Thank you,” said Gates coolly. “I suppose you are about to show us our rooms.”

Morton, stupefied at his loss, said nothing. Everything had gone against him. The proceeds of his defalcation had melted into thin air. He complied silently.

But the Teuton was the most obstreperous.

“Where is it you will take me?” he cried. “I will not go.”

“Won’t you?” asked Alonzo grimly, drawing a formidable-looking knife from his girdle.

“Oh, Gott in Himmel! He will cut mein throat!” ejaculated the horror-stricken Dutchman, his knees trembling beneath him.

“Not if you obey orders,” said Alonzo, inclined to laugh.

Herr Schmidt no longer resisted, but shambled in with what haste he could. Alonzo threw open the outer door of the building, disclosing a dark interior. But he lighted a lantern, and then advancing to one side of the apartment, touched some secret spring, and instantly a door flew open, revealing a flight of steps leading downward into a subterranean vault.

Morton recoiled in alarm.

“Are we going down there?” he asked in a startled tone.

Gates took it more philosophically.

“Really,” he said, “considering what I have paid at this hotel—in advance, too—I think I deserve better accommodations.”

“It is the best we have,” said Alonzo briefly.

“Then, my friend, I advise you to give up keeping a hotel.”

“You won’t find it uncomfortable,” said Alonzo. “It’s rather dark, to be sure.”

“Must I go down in de cellar?” asked Herr Schmidt, his ample countenance bespeaking his discontent, not to say alarm.

“Yes, and be quick about it,” said the robber, losing patience.

Gates led the way, Morton followed, and the Dutchman brought up the rear of the captives. But the stairs were steep, he lost his footing, and, when a little more than half-way down, he tumbled, falling helplessly on the earthen floor. Under the impression that he was dangerously wounded, he burst into a series of cries of a stentorian character which irritated his conductor.

“Stop that nonsense,” he said roughly, “or I’ll stick this knife into you, you overgrown hog, and then you’ll have some reason to scream.”

“Hog!” repeated the Teuton, offended. “What for do you call me a hog, I like to know?”

“Because you are one. Pick yourself up, or I’ll step on you.”

Thus mildly entreated, Herr Schmidt made shift to stand, and on ascertaining that he had really met with no serious injuries, begun to feel better.

Alonzo now took the lead, and conducted the prisoners into an inner cave, where by the light of the lantern several pallets were seen lying upon the earth.

“Lie down there if you like,” he said.

“That’s all very well,” said Gates, “but allow me to remind you that I generally sup before retiring.”

“So do I,” said Herr Schmidt. “Have you got some good beer and sausages? And I think I would like some schweitzer kÄse, too.”

“None of that for me, please,” said Gates.

“You shall have some supper shortly,” said the robber, turning to leave them.

They hoped he would leave the lantern, but he evidently thought they had no need of it. A minute later and they found themselves enveloped in darkness.

“This is rather lively,” said Gates. “I can’t say I like the arrangements of this hotel.”

Morton did not answer, but Herr Schmidt begun to bewail his fate and express his conviction that he should never more see his Katrine and the kinder.