On the next day the bindery was opened as usual, but Mr. Islen did not appear, having gone to Philadelphia. Jerry worked throughout the day, wondering what Alexander Sloc.u.m had thought and done after he had discovered the escape. Little did the young oarsman dream of what the real estate dealer was then doing.

Our hero was proving himself to be skillful at the work a.s.signed to him and the foreman often praised him.

"You'll be worth a raise in wages," he said. "I never saw a boy take hold as you do."

Jerry never delayed after the day's work was over. He washed up, put on his coat, and hurried forth to his boarding place.

When Jerry reached the house he found little Dottie on the stoop, with Tommy in her arms. Tommy was crying for something to eat, and the little girl was having her hands full with him.

"Where is Miss Nellie?" asked our hero in surprise.

"I don't know," returned the girl. "She sent me out with Tommy after dinner, and when I tried to get in after a while the door was locked and she was gone."

"And you have been sitting here ever since?"

"Yes."

"Come up. I'll open the door."

Jerry led the way, and with a night key opened the door to the kitchen.

A cry of surprise burst from his lips. Everywhere were the signs of a desperate struggle. Two of the chairs were overturned, the table-cloth hung half off the table, and Nellie Ardell's sewing was strewn in all directions.

"This is Sloc.u.m's work!"

Those were the words which arose to the youth's lips as he surveyed the situation in the kitchen.

Alexander Sloc.u.m had tried to get him out of the way, and now he had tried the same plan upon Nellie Ardell.

There had been a fierce struggle, of that there was not the slightest doubt.

But the girl had been overpowered in the end and taken off.

To where?

That was the all important question.

While our hero was gazing around the room, little Tommy was crying at the top of his lungs.

To quiet him, Jerry gave him his bowl of bread and milk, and also gave Dottie her supper.

Then Jerry began a minute examination of the rooms.

There was mud on the oil-cloth--the tracks of four boots.

"Sloc.u.m and Casey, his book-keeper," he said to himself.

Going below he interviewed Mrs. Flannigan, a good-natured Irish woman who lived on the nest floor.

"Did you see Miss Ardell this afternoon?"

"Sure, an' Oi did not Oi was out," she replied.

He next tried the janitress, who lived in the bas.e.m.e.nt. She was a peppery old woman who seldom had a pleasant word for anybody.

"Did I see her? Yes, she went out with two men about two hours ago," she said.

"What sort of looking men?"

"I can't say--I'm not taking notice of everybody who comes and goes."

"But this is important, Mrs. Foley. I am afraid something has happened to Miss Ardell."

"They were tall men, and I guess both had big black mustaches and beards."

"Where did she go with them?"

"Into a carriage. All of 'em seemed to be in a big hurry."

"Which way did the carriage go?"

"Down towards the Brooklyn ferry."

In a thoughtful mood, the young oarsman walked back upstairs. He met Mrs.

Flannigan outside of the door.

"What's wrong, Mr. Upton?"

"That is what I am trying to find out. Miss Ardell is missing. If I go out, will you look after the children?"

"Sure, Oi will, bless the dears," she said. Her heart was as large as her ruddy, full-blown face.

Without waiting longer, Jerry ran down into the street and endeavored to trace the carriage down to the ferry. In this he was successful, and learned that the turnout containing two men and a young lady, who appeared to be ill, had crossed to Brooklyn.

By this time night had set in, and all efforts to follow the carriage proved unsuccessful. Yet unwilling to give up, Jerry spent over two hours in Brooklyn, hunting in every direction for a clew.

Our hero had never been across the East River before, and in hunting around it was but natural that he should get lost. At the end of the search he found himself a good distance from the river, in a neighborhood that looked anything but respectable.

"It's time I got back," thought the youth, and started to make inquiries.

"You're a dozen blocks out of your way," said a man. "Go down that way three blocks, and turn to your left."

As Jerry walked along a somewhat gloomy street, he noticed three men walking ahead of him. One was a tall, finely built man, wearing a large round hat, of the western type.

The other men were short fellows, each with a red mustache. They carried heavy canes and walked on either side of the tall individual.

"Aren't we almost there?" Jerry heard the tall man ask, as he drew closer to the trio.

"Yes, it ain't but a step further," was the reply from one of the short men.