"Oh, yes, I have, Sam. And that is what is worrying me. I don't know if we are doing right to keep this from him."

"Before we tell him anything, let us consult Uncle Randolph and Aunt Martha," said Tom. "If they know the truth, that will lift a little of the responsibility from our shoulders."

"I am not going to tell any of them--at least, not for a week or so longer," returned d.i.c.k. "I am living in hope every day that we'll get some kind of a clew."

It had rained hard the day previous, but now the sky was clear. With but little to do in the offices that afternoon after three o'clock, the Rover boys took a walk up Broadway from Wall Street to where the Outlook Hotel was located.

"It certainly is a busy city," was Tom's comment, as they came to a temporary halt in front of the post-office. "Just look at the stream of humanity and the cars and wagons, not to speak of the automobiles."

"What takes my eye, is the size of so many of these buildings,"

declared Sam. "Say, maybe an earthquake around here wouldn't do some damage!"

"And to think of the way the people travel!" broke in d.i.c.k. "They are down in the ground, on the street, and up in the air," and he smiled a little at the thought.

Walking past the post-office, the three youths entered City Hall Park, crossing the same to look at some of the bulletin boards put out by the newspapers located on Park Row.

"h.e.l.lo!" cried Tom, suddenly; and caught each of his brothers by the arm.

"What now, Tom?" asked d.i.c.k, quickly.

"See that fellow over there, leaning against the fence, reading a newspaper?"

"Why, I declare! It is Barton Pelter!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Sam.

"You mean Jesse Pelter's nephew--the chap you hauled out of the river?" questioned d.i.c.k.

"The same," returned Tom. "Say, I think I'll go over and talk to him,"

he added, quickly.

"He may not want to talk to you, Tom," interposed his younger brother.

"I'll risk it;" and so speaking, Tom stepped forward and advanced to where the other youth was busy looking over the sporting edition of one of the afternoon sheets.

"What is it? I don't seem to remember you," said Barton Pelter, when Tom touched his arm.

"I am Tom Rover," was the reply. "This is my brother Sam, and this my brother d.i.c.k;" and Tom pointed to the others, who were coming up.

"Oh, is that so!" returned Barton Pelter, and put out his hand. "I am glad to see you," he continued, somewhat hesitatingly. "Is this the one who helped to pull me out of the river?" and he nodded towards Sam.

"Yes."

"I am certainly very much obliged to both of you," continued the young man, and his face showed that he meant what he said. "If it hadn't been for you, I might have been drowned. I suppose you--er--you--er--got my letter?"

"Oh, yes, and we understood it, perfectly," returned Tom, hastily.

"It's all right. We didn't do so much, after all."

"I think you did a good deal," and Barton Pelter laughed nervously.

"You--you are now in business where my uncle used to be, are you not?"

"We are," answered d.i.c.k. "By the way, what has become of your uncle?" he questioned, curiously.

"I don't know, exactly. I think though he is going East. Perhaps to Boston. How is business with you?" the young man continued, hastily, as if he wanted to change the subject.

"Oh, business is all right enough," answered d.i.c.k. And then he looked meaningly at his brothers.

"The trouble with us is, we've been very unfortunate," broke in Tom, before the others could stop him. "We've just suffered a tremendous loss."

"Is that so? In what way?"

Before answering, Tom looked at d.i.c.k. "Shall I tell him?" he questioned, in a low tone.

"You might as well, since you have gone so far," was the reply. "In fact, I don't know that it will do much good to keep still any longer."

"We've been robbed."

"You don't say so! Did you lose much?"

"We lost sixty-four thousand dollars' worth of bonds," answered Sam.

"Oh, a bad business deal, I presume." And Barton Pelter smiled grimly.

"That's the way it is in Wall Street. You are up one day, and down the next. That's the way it was with my uncle."

"No, we didn't lose the bonds that way," answered d.i.c.k. "They were stolen."

"Stolen! From where?"

"From our office."

"Why, that's the worst I ever heard!" declared Barton Pelter, with interest. "Who was it? Did some fellow sneak into your offices and take them?"

"We don't know how the robbery took place," answered Tom. "My brother put the bonds in a j.a.panned box that was locked, and put the box in the once safe one afternoon. The next morning when he opened the safe, the box with the bonds was gone."

"What's that!" exclaimed the listener, excitedly. "You had them in a box, and put the box in your safe? Do you mean the safe that was in the offices when my uncle and Mr. j.a.pson had it?"

"Sure! it's the same safe," answered d.i.c.k.

"Well, what do you know about that!" gasped Barton Pelter. His face showed increasing interest. "When was all this?"

"Just about a week ago."

"Haven't you any clews to the robbery?"

"Nothing very much," answered d.i.c.k, before either of his brothers could speak. "A girl saw a man leaving the building the evening of the robbery, but who he was, she did not know."

"And you say the box was put in the safe my uncle used to own?" went on the young man. "Of course it was locked?"

"Yes."

"Was it--er--er--was it--er--that is, did you have the same combination on it that the lock used to have?" stammered the other.