"Can we look at it?" asked Frank.

The agent showed it to them.

"That's Ned's trunk!" cried Frank. "We're on the track. He hasn't left New York, that's sure. Has any one called for that trunk?" he asked the agent.

"No, but I wish they would. It's in the way here."

"Could you let us know in case any one does call?" Frank went on, giving his reasons for the request. "We'll pay you for your trouble."

"I s'pose I could. Where'll you be?"

"We ought to stop at some hotel near here," Frank suggested. "Then we can come here quickly if we get a message."

"Do you know of a good hotel near here?" asked Bart of the agent.

"There's the Imperial a few blocks up the street. It's not especially good, but it's respectable. I guess you could stop there."

"That will do," Frank said. "We'll get rooms there. We will send for our trunks, and you can telephone us in case that other one is called for."

He gave the man a couple of dollars to pay for his trouble, and for any telephone messages he might have to send, and then the three chums went to the same hotel where Ned had stopped.

The same clerk was on duty who had been there when Ned registered, and he seemed rather surprised at the three well dressed youths who entered.

Usually the Imperial, in spite of its name, did not attract such a cla.s.s of patrons. The boys bargained for three connecting rooms, and, as they had plenty of money were given good apartments on the second floor.

"Register," the clerk said, swinging the book around to them.

As Bart took the pen to write his name, he looked at the book and gave a start.

"I thought first that was Ned's writing," he said as he looked where his chum, but a few hours before had written "Thomas Seldon."

"Friend of yours?" asked the clerk quickly.

"I thought first it looked like the writing of a chum of mine," Bart replied. "But it's different I see."

"Guess that chap doesn't travel in your company," the clerk went on, as the other boys put down their names.

"Why?"

"Oh, he's a crook I guess," and he told of the discovery of Ned's escape down the rope. "He hasn't done anything as far as we can learn," the clerk went on, "but his getting out that way showed there was something wrong, though he was honest enough to leave a dollar for his room, which he didn't occupy. However, the police would like to get him just to see why he was in such a hurry to get away.

"Funny thing, too," the clerk continued. "He left his valise behind him.

He must have lowered it out of the window by the rope, or else he threw it out. Anyway, just before we found out that he had gone, our chef went out in the back yard for a breath of air. He saw the valise lying on the ground, but didn't take notice of the rope. He brought the satchel in and gave it to me. I was talking to a detective at the desk, one who comes in here every once in a while to see if there are any suspicious characters. I was telling him about this Seldon lad, just as the cook handed me the grip. I recognized it as the one the boy had when he came in, and got suspicious. We went to his room, but he had skipped. We've got the valise yet, but haven't opened it. The police may in a few days."

The boys slept soundly that night. They awoke in the morning to find a heavy snow storm in progress. They spent the day going from one place to another, following the advice they got at the office of the chief of police. But all to no purpose. There was no trace of Ned. They were out almost all day in the storm, which continued to get worse as night approached.

"There's one thing we forgot," said Frank, as they prepared to go back to the hotel for the night.

"What?" asked Fenn.

"We should have let Mr. Wilding know where we are stopping. You know he said he was coming to New York. We must send him a wire. If he has left Darewell, the bank will know his address here, and forward it to us."

This plan, Frank's chums decided, was a wise one. They turned toward a telegraph office which they had noticed near their hotel. As they were going down a dark side street Bart, who was in advance, stumbled over something and fell into a snow drift.

"Hurt yourself?" asked Frank.

"No. It was like falling into a feather bed, only it's cold."

Just then something like a groan sounded from the object Bart had stumbled over.

"What's that?" asked Fenn.

The three boys bent over the object.

"It's a boy!" cried Frank. "He's almost frozen to death. Come on, fellows! We must carry him to some shelter."

"Better take him to our hotel," suggested Bart.

They picked up the boy, who was lying in a drift of snow on the sidewalk, and hurried on with him. Feeble moans came from between the unknown's white lips.

CHAPTER XXIII

NED'S PREDICAMENT

When Ned awakened Thursday morning in the lodging house and, on looking from the window saw that it was snowing, his unpleasant position came forcibly to him.

"This is nice," he reflected as he put on his shoes. "It's as cold as Greenland out of doors, and I'm down to--let's see what my cash capital is, anyhow."

He fumbled in the change pocket of his overcoat, and found a few coins.

"Thirty cents," he murmured as he looked at them. "There's enough for three five-cent meals, and enough to pay for a bed to-night. I'll need the bed too, if this storm keeps up."

He finished dressing and went to the window to look out. It was anything but a pleasant day on which to look for work. The wind had blown the snow into big drifts, and the white flakes were still falling. It was cold too, as he could tell by the draught that came in around the window.

"Come now, everybody clear out!" called a voice, and one of the porters of the lodging house appeared with a pail and broom. "Got to clean up the place. Fifteen cents doesn't mean you fellers can make a hotel of this place and hang around all day. Clear out!"

"Can't we stay until it stops snowin'?" asked one of the men, who were crowded around the big stove in the sleeping room.

"You kin if you pay for another night's lodging," was the answer. "What do you think this is, the Salvation Army or the Y. M. C. A.? If you want free graft go there. You has to pay for what you gits here. Clear out!"

There was no help for it. Those who hoped to remain in away from the storm, where it was at least warm, though not very inviting, were doomed to disappointment. A few, who had the money, paid for another night's lodging, which gave them the privilege of remaining in during the day.

Ned had half a notion to do this, but he reflected he might find a place to work which would be so far from the lodging house that he could not conveniently return. So he decided to save his money until he could find out what the day might hold for him.

With scores of other unfortunates he left the warm room and went out into the cold. He was glad he was well clothed and that he still had his overcoat. How long he could keep it, before he would have to p.a.w.n it for food, he did not know. He almost decided to go back to the hotel where he had first stayed and see if they knew anything about his valise. That had ten dollars in it. Then the thought of the detective deterred him.