Alexander Slocum’s statement was no more than Jerry had expected, so he was not taken back by the words. He looked the man steadily in the eyes.

“So that is the position you are going to take now—since you received my packet from James MacHenry,” said Jerry, deliberately.

Slocum started and winced, and the young oarsman saw that Crazy Jim had spoken the truth.

“I haven’t anything belonging to you, Upton.”

“It is useless for you to deny it, Mr. Slocum. He found the packet and delivered it to you for a reward of five dollars.”

“The packet he delivered to me was my own. It contained some legal documents belonging to this office.”

“You may make others believe that, Mr. Slocum, but—”

“But what, boy? Remember, I want none of your insolence here. I will listen to you, but you mustn’t grow impertinent.”

“I’m only speaking the truth. You virtually robbed me, just as you robbed my father and Mr. Bryant Ardell.”

“Ha!” Slocum leaped to his feet. “Who—where did you hear of Bryant Ardell?” he asked, excitedly.

“I have met Nellie Ardell several times—in fact, I am boarding with her.”

“Did she set you to hounding me?”

“No; we met by accident after I had come to New York almost on purpose to see you.”

“She is an impudent young woman.”

“She told me that you had her land papers, just as you now have mine.”

“It’s a falsehood!”

“If both of us go to court with our story, we may prove that it is not a falsehood.”

“Ha! are you going to combine to ruin my reputation?” cried the real estate dealer, growing pale.

“We are going to try to obtain our rights.”

“You’ll gain nothing. I’ll—I’ll have you locked up on a charge of black-mail!” Alexander Slocum began to pace his office nervously. “See here, Upton how much do you want to go off and leave me alone?” he questioned, suddenly.

“I want what is due my father.”

“You’ll not get it!” he whispered, hoarsely, throwing his mask aside. “Do you think I have plotted and worked all these years for nothing? Not much! All that property is mine, do you hear? Nobody else shall ever own a foot of it. Now, I’ll tell you what I am willing to do. I’ll give you a hundred dollars in cash and we’ll call it square. Mind you, I don’t admit your claim. I only want to avoid trouble.”

Jerry looked at the man and drew a long breath. He could see through Slocum’s words as clearly as he could see through the window. His father’s claim was worth a fortune!

“Come, what do you say?” demanded Slocum as Jerry did not answer him.

“I say this, Mr. Slocum,” rejoined our hero. “I won’t accept your proposition, and before I am done with you I’ll have our rights and you’ll be in state’s prison.”

With a snarl very much like that made by a fretful tiger, the man leaped toward the boy as if to grab him by the throat.

“You fool! I’ll make you come to terms!”

His hand touched Jerry’s collar, but the young oarsman evaded him and placed the flat-top desk between them. When the man ran around the desk, Jerry picked up a heavy brass-bound ruler.

“Stop, or I’ll crack you with this!” cried our hero, and, seeing the weapon, Slocum halted.

“Don’t be a fool, boy!”

“I don’t intend to be.”

“You can do nothing against me.”

“That remains to be seen.”

“Who will take your word against mine? Nobody. You are a mere country lad, while I am a well-known New York citizen.”

“Mr. Ardell was also well known in his day.”

Again Alexander Slocum’s face grew pale.

“Nellie Ardell has no doubt urged you to attack me,” he growled. “I must see her. Why didn’t she come with you?”

“She is busy.”

“I will explain matters to her in detail. Really, the claim is not worth anything, but I wish to avoid trouble, and—”

“You might as well stop, Mr. Slocum, for it’s too late to say that now. I am positive our claims are of great value. Since you won’t do the right thing, I shall advise my father to bring action in court to compel you to come to terms.”

While speaking, Jerry had walked to the door, and now placed his hand on the knob.

“Stop! stop!”

“No, I have had enough for the present.”

“You villain!”

Slocum ran toward Jerry, who opened the door to step out, but found the way blockaded by Casey, his book-keeper.

“Here, what’s up?” cried the man, in wonder.

“Don’t let him get away, Casey!” cried Alexander Slocum. “He is going to make trouble, sure!”

“Let me go!” burst out our hero as the book-keeper caught hold of him. “Let go, or I’ll——”

Jerry never finished that sentence. Alexander Slocum had picked up the ruler the youth had dropped, and leaped to the front. Down came the weapon on the young oarsman’s head; he felt a sharp stinging pain—and then he knew no more.

When Jerry came to his senses all was dark around him. He was lying on a damp, cement floor, evidently that of a cellar.

His head ached greatly, and for several minutes he could not remember what had happened.

Then came back that scene in Slocum’s office. He staggered to his feet.

Where was he and how long had he been there?

The first question was readily answered. Stepping forward, Jerry stumbled over some loose coal. He was in a coal-cellar. Around and above were brick walls. The door was of sheet-iron, and it was tightly closed and barred. How had he come to that place? Probably his enemies had carried him hither, although how they could do it without being seen was a question.

As soon as our hero felt strong enough he looked about for some means of escaping from his prison. With great care he examined the walls and tried the door.

Finding no outlet on any side, he turned his attention to the pavements above. From one spot there came a faint glimmer of light, in a circle, and he rightfully guessed that the coal-hole was located there.

How to reach the hole was a problem. It was several feet above our hero’s head, and there was nothing in the coal-vault to stand upon.

Jerry considered the situation for a minute, and then, standing directly under the cover of the hole, leaped upward, sending his hand over his head as he did so.

The cover was loose, and the force of the blow caused it to fly upward. Another blow and it fell away entirely, and in a second more the young oarsman was clambering out of the opening.

It was drawing towards evening, and the street was full of people, some of which eyed the boy curiously. Restoring the cover to its place, he left the spot.

The question now was, should he return to Slocum’s office or seek outside assistance? He decided upon the latter course. To attempt to bring the rascally real estate agent to terms alone would be foolhardy.

Jerry’s head ached so much he could think only with difficulty, and he decided to return to Nellie Ardell’s apartments. It was a hard walk, and he was glad when the place was reached and he could sit down.

“What’s the matter—are you hurt?” cried the young woman.

“I was knocked out,” replied the youth, with a sorry little laugh. “I’ve got a pretty big lump on the top of my head.”

Sitting down, he told his story, to which Nellie Ardell listened with breathless attention.

“The wicked man! He should be locked up!” she burst out, when Jerry had finished. “It’s a wonder he didn’t kill you.”

“That’s true. As it was, the blow was awfully hard.”

“What will you do now?”

“I really don’t know.”

“Won’t that Mr. Islen whom you work for, help you?”

“Perhaps he will,” returned the youth, struck with the idea. “The trouble is his brother is dead, and that has upset him.”

“One thing is certain, Jerry, the property is valuable.”

“Yes, and another thing is certain,” added our hero. “We want our shares of it.”

“It would be a great help to me to get some money out of it,” said Nellie Ardell, with a sigh. “This sewing constantly day in and day out is wearing on me.”

The two talked for over an hour, and then Jerry felt compelled to lie down. It was nearly morning before his head stopped aching and he got some rest.