"I shall do so when I get ready to go out, myself."
"I shall go with you."

"I think not."

"Who's to prevent me?" said Jack, defiantly.

"Who's to prevent you?"

"Yes; you'd better not attempt it. I should be sorry to hurt you, but I
mean to go out. If you attempt to stop me, you must take the
consequences."

"I am afraid you are a violent young man. But I've got a man who is a
match for two like you."

The old man opened the door.

"Samuel, show yourself," he said.

A brawny negro, six feet in height, and evidently very powerful, came to
the entrance.

"If this young man attempts to escape, Samuel, what will you do?"

"Tie him hand and foot," answered the negro.

"That'll do, Samuel. Stay where you are."

He closed the door and looked triumphantly at our hero.

Jack threw himself sullenly into a chair.

"Where is the woman that brought me here?" he asked.

"Peg? Oh, she couldn't stay. She had important business to transact, my
young friend, and so she has gone. She commended you to our particular
attention, and you will be just as well treated as if she were here."

This assurance was not calculated to comfort Jack.

"How long are you going to keep me cooped up here?" he asked,
desperately, wishing to learn the worst at once.

"Really, my young friend, I couldn't say. I don't know how long it will
be before you are cured."

"Cured?" repeated Jack, puzzled.

The old man tapped his forehead.

"You're a little affected here, you know, but under my treatment I hope
soon to restore you to your friends."

"What!" ejaculated our hero, terror-stricken, "you don't mean to say you
think I'm crazy?"

"To be sure you are," said the old man, "but--"

"But I tell you it's a lie," exclaimed Jack, energetically. "Who told
you so?"

"Your aunt."

"My aunt?"

"Yes, Mrs. Hardwick. She brought you here to be treated for insanity."

"It's a base lie," said Jack, hotly. "That woman is no more my aunt than
you are. She's an impostor. She carried off my sister Ida, and this is
only a plot to get rid of me. She told me she was going to take me to
see Ida."

The old man shrugged his shoulders.

"My young friend," he said, "she told me all about it--that you had a
delusion about some supposed sister, whom you accused her of carrying
off."

"This is outrageous," said Jack, hotly.

"That's what all my patients say."

"And you are a mad-doctor?"

"Yes."

"Then you know by my looks that I am not crazy."

"Pardon me, my young friend; that doesn't follow. There is a peculiar
appearance about your eyes which I cannot mistake. There's no mistake
about it, my good sir. Your mind has gone astray, but if you'll be
quiet, and won't excite yourself, you'll soon be well."

"How soon?"

"Well, two or three months."

"Two or three months! You don't mean to say you want to confine me here
two or three months?"

"I hope I can release you sooner."

"You can't understand your business very well, or you would see at once
that I am not insane."

"That's what all my patients say. They won't any of them own that their
minds are affected."

"Will you supply me with some writing materials?"

"Yes; Samuel shall bring them here."

"I suppose you will excuse my suggesting also that it is dinner time?"

"He shall bring you some dinner at the same time."

The old man retired, but in fifteen minutes a plate of meat and
vegetables was brought to the room.

"I'll bring the pen and ink afterward," said the negro.

In spite of his extraordinary situation and uncertain prospects, Jack
ate with his usual appetite.

Then he penned a letter to his uncle, briefly detailing the circumstances
of his present situation.

"I am afraid," the letter concluded, "that while I am shut up here, Mrs.
Hardwick will carry Ida out of the city, where it will be more difficult
for us to get on her track. She is evidently a dangerous woman."

Two days passed and no notice was taken of the letter.




CHAPTER XXVII

JACK BEGINS TO REALIZE HIS SITUATION


"It's very strange," thought Jack, "that Uncle Abel doesn't take any
notice of my letter."

In fact, our hero felt rather indignant, as well as surprised, and on
the next visit of Dr. Robinson, he asked: "Hasn't my uncle been here to
ask about me?"

"Yes," said the old man, unexpectedly.

"Why didn't you bring him up here to see me?"

"He just inquired how you were, and said he thought you were better off
with us than you would be at home."

Jack looked fixedly in the face of the pretended doctor, and was
convinced that he had been deceived.

"I don't believe it," he said.

"Oh! do as you like about believing it."

"I don't believe you mailed my letter to my uncle."

"Have it your own way, my young friend. Of course I can't argue with a
maniac."

"Don't call me a maniac, you old humbug! You ought to be in jail for
this outrage."

"Ho, ho! How very amusing you are, my young friend!" said the old man.
"You'd make a first-class tragedian, you really would."

"I might do something tragic, if I had a weapon," said Jack,
significantly. "Are you going to let me out?"

"Positively, I can't part with you. You are too good company," said
Dr. Robinson, mockingly. "You'll thank me for my care of you when you
are quite cured."

"That's all rubbish," said Jack, boldly. "I'm no more crazy than you
are, and you know it. Will you answer me a question?"

"It depends on what it is," said the old man, cautiously.

"Has Mrs. Hardwick been here to ask about me?"

"Certainly. She takes a great deal of interest in you."

"Was there a little girl with her?"

"I believe so. I really don't remember."

"If she calls again, either with or without Ida, will you ask her to
come up here? I want to see her."

"Yes, I'll tell her. Now, my young friend, I must really leave you.
Business before pleasure, you know."

Jack looked about the room for something to read. He found among other
books a small volume, purporting to contain "The Adventures of Baron
Trenck."

It may be that the reader has never encountered a copy of this singular
book. Baron Trenck was several times imprisoned for political offenses,
and this book contains an account of the manner in which he succeeded,
after years of labor, in escaping from his dungeon.

Jack read the book with intense interest and wondered, looking about the
room, if he could not find some similar plan of escape.




CHAPTER XXVIII

THE SECRET STAIRCASE


The prospect certainly was not a bright one. The door was fast locked.
Escape from the windows seemed impracticable. This apparently exhausted
the avenues of escape that were open to the dissatisfied prisoner. But
accidentally Jack made an important discovery.

There was a full-length portrait in the room. Jack chanced to rest his
hand against it, when he must unconsciously have touched some secret
spring, for a secret door opened, dividing the picture in two parts,
and, to our hero's unbounded astonishment, he saw before him a small
spiral staircase leading down into the darkness.

"This is a queer old house!" thought Jack. "I wonder where those stairs
go to. I've a great mind to explore."

There was not much chance of detection, he reflected, as it would be
three hours before his next meal would be brought him. He left the door
open, therefore, and began slowly and cautiously to go down the
staircase. It seemed a long one, longer than was necessary to connect
two floors. Boldly Jack kept on till he reached the bottom.

"Where am I?" thought our hero. "I must be down as low as the cellar."

While this thought passed through his mind, voices suddenly struck upon
his ear. He had accustomed himself now to the darkness, and ascertained
that there was a crevice through which he could look in the direction
from which the sounds proceeded. Applying his eye, he could distinguish
a small cellar apartment, in the middle of which was a printing press,
and work was evidently going on. He could distinguish three persons. Two
were in their shirt sleeves, bending over an engraver's bench. Beside
them, and apparently superintending their work, was the old man whom
Jack knew as Dr. Robinson.

He applied his ear to the crevice, and heard these words:

"This lot is rather better than the last, Jones. We can't be too
careful, or the detectives will interfere with our business. Some of the
last lot were rather coarse."

"I know it, sir," answered the man addressed as Jones.

"There's nothing the matter with this," said the old man. "There isn't
one person in a hundred that would suspect it was not genuine."

Jack pricked up his ears.

Looking through the crevice, he ascertained that it was a bill that the
old man had in his hand.

"They're counterfeiters," he said, half audibly.

Low as the tone was, it startled Dr. Robinson.

"Ha!" said he, startled, "what's that?"

"What's what, sir?" said Jones.

"I thought I heard some one speaking."

"I didn't hear nothing, sir."

"Did you hear nothing, Ferguson?"

"No, sir."

"I suppose I was deceived, then," said the old man.

"How many bills have you there?" he resumed.

"Seventy-nine, sir."

"That's a very good day's work," said the old man, in a tone of
satisfaction. "It's a paying business."

"It pays you, sir," said Jones, grumbling.

"And it shall pay you, too, my man, never fear!"

Jack had made a great discovery. He understood now the connection
between Mrs. Hardwick and the old man whom he now knew not to be a
physician. He was at the head of a gang of counterfeiters, and she
was engaged in putting the false money into circulation.

He softly ascended the staircase, and re-entered the room he left,
closing the secret door behind him.




CHAPTER XXIX

JACK IS DETECTED


In the course of the afternoon, Jack made another visit to the foot of
the staircase. He saw through the crevice the same two men at work, but
the old man was not with them. Ascertaining this, he ought, in prudence,
immediately to have retraced his steps, but he remained on watch for
twenty minutes. When he did return he was startled by finding the old
man seated, and waiting for him. There was a menacing expression on his
face.

"Where have you been?" he demanded, abruptly.

"Downstairs," answered Jack.

"Ha! What did you see?"

"I may as well own up," thought Jack. "Through a crack I saw some men at
work in a basement room," he replied.

"Do you know what they were doing?"

"Counterfeiting, I should think."

"Well, is there anything wrong in that?"

"I suppose you wouldn't want to be found out," he answered.

"I didn't mean to have you make this discovery. Now there's only one
thing to be done."

"What's that?"

"You have become possessed of an important--I may say, a dangerous
secret. You have us in your power."

"I suppose," said Jack, "you are afraid I will denounce you to the
police?"

"Well, there is a possibility of that. That class of people has a
prejudice against us, though we are only doing what everybody likes to
do--making money."

"Will you let me go if I keep your secret?"

"What assurance have we that you would keep your promise?"

"I would pledge my word."

"Your word!" Foley--for this was the old man's real name--snapped his
fingers. "I wouldn't give that for it. That is not sufficient."

"What will be?"

"You must become one of us."

"One of you!"

"Yes. You must make yourself liable to the same penalties, so that it
will be for your own interest to remain silent. Otherwise we can't trust
you."

"Suppose I decline these terms?"

"Then I shall be under the painful necessity of retaining you as my
guest," said Foley, smiling disagreeably.

"What made you pretend to be a mad-doctor?"

"To put you off the track," said Foley. "You believed it, didn't you?"

"At first."

"Well, what do you say?" asked Foley.

"I should like to take time to reflect upon your proposal," said Jack.
"It is of so important a character that I don't like to decide at once."

"How long do you require?"

"Two days. Suppose I join you, shall I get good pay?"

"Excellent," answered Foley. "In fact, you'll be better paid than a boy
of your age would be anywhere else."

"That's worth thinking about," said Jack, gravely. "My father is poor,
and I've got my own way to make."

"You couldn't have a better opening. You're a smart lad, and will be
sure to succeed."

"Well, I'll think of it. If I should make up my mind before the end of
two days, I will let you know."

"Very well. You can't do better."

"But there's one thing I want to ask about," said Jack, with pretended
anxiety. "It's pretty risky business, isn't it?"

"I've been in the business ten years, and they haven't got hold of me
yet," answered Foley. "All you've got to do is to be careful."

"He'll join," said Foley to himself. "He's a smart fellow, and we can
make him useful. It'll be the best way to dispose of one who might get
us into trouble."




CHAPTER XXX

JACK'S TRIUMPH


The next day Jack had another visit from Foley. "Well," said the old
man, nodding, "have you thought over my proposal?"

"What should I have to do?" asked Jack.

"Sometimes one thing, and sometimes another. At first we might employ
you to put off some of the bills."

"That would be easy work, anyway," said Jack.

"Yes, there is nothing hard about that, except to look innocent."

"I can do that," said Jack, laughing.

"You're smart; I can tell by the looks of you."

"Do you really think so?" returned Jack, appearing flattered.

"Yes; you'll make one of our best hands."

"I suppose Mrs. Hardwick is in your employ?"

"Perhaps she is, and perhaps she isn't," said Foley, noncommittally.
"That is something you don't need to know."

"Oh, I don't care to know," said Jack, carelessly. "I only asked. I was
afraid you would set me to work down in the cellar."

"You don't know enough about the business. We need skilled workmen. You
couldn't do us any good there."

"I shouldn't like it, anyway. It must be unpleasant to be down there."

"We pay the workmen you saw good pay."

"Yes, I suppose so. When do you want me to begin?"

"I can't tell you just yet. I'll think about it."

"I hope it'll be soon, for I'm tired of staying here. By the way, that's
a capital idea about the secret staircase. Who'd ever think the portrait
concealed it?" said Jack.

As he spoke he advanced to the portrait in an easy, natural manner, and
touched the spring.

Of course it flew open. The old man also drew near.

"That was my idea," he said, in a complacent tone. "Of course we have to
keep everything as secret as possible, and I flatter myself--"

His remark came to a sudden pause. He had incautiously got between Jack
and the open door. Now our hero, who was close upon eighteen, and
strongly built, was considerably more than a match in physical strength
for Foley. He suddenly seized the old man, thrust him through the
aperture, then closed the secret door, and sprang for the door of the
room.

The key was in the lock where Foley, whose confidence made him careless,
had left it. Turning it, he hurried downstairs, meeting no one on the
way. To open the front door and dash through it was the work of an
instant. As he descended the stairs he could hear the muffled shout of
the old man whom he had made prisoner, but this only caused him to
accelerate his speed.

Jack now directed his course as well as he could toward his uncle's
shop. One thing, however, he did not forget, and that was to note
carefully the position of the shop in which he had been confined.

"I shall want to make another visit there," he reflected.

Meantime, as may well be supposed, Abel Harding had suffered great
anxiety on account of Jack's protracted absence. Several days had
elapsed and still he was missing.

"I am afraid something has happened to Jack," he remarked to his wife on
the afternoon of Jack's escape. "I think Jack was probably rash and
imprudent, and I fear, poor boy, he may have come to harm."

"He may be confined by the parties who have taken his sister."

"It is possible that it is no worse. At all events, I don't think it
right to keep it from Timothy any longer. I've put off writing as long
as I could, hoping Jack would come back, but I don't feel as if it would
be right to hold it back any longer. I shall write this evening."

"Better wait till morning, Abel. Who knows but we may hear from Jack
before that time?"

"If we'd been going to hear we'd have heard before this," he said.

Just at that moment the door was flung open.

"Why, it's Jack!" exclaimed the baker, amazed.

"I should say it was," returned Jack. "Aunt, have you got anything to
eat? I'm 'most famished."

"Where in the name of wonder have you been, Jack?"

"I've been shut up, uncle--boarded and lodged for nothing--by some
people who liked my company better than I liked theirs. But I've just
made my escape, and here I am, well, hearty and hungry."

Jack's appetite was soon provided for. He found time between the
mouthfuls to describe the secret staircase, and his discovery of the
unlawful occupation of the man who acted as his jailer.

The baker listened with eager interest.

"Jack," said he, "you've done a good stroke of business."

"In getting away?" said Jack.

"No, in ferreting out these counterfeiters. Do you know there is a
reward of a thousand dollars offered for their apprehension?"

"You don't say so!" exclaimed Jack, laying down his knife and fork. "Do
you think I can get it?"

"You'd better try. The gang has managed matters so shrewdly that the
authorities have been unable to get any clew to their whereabouts. Can
you go to the house?"

"Yes; I took particular notice of its location."

"That's lucky. Now, if you take my advice, you'll inform the authorities
before they have time to get away."

"I'll do it!" said Jack. "Come along, uncle."

Fifteen minutes later, Jack was imparting his information to the chief
of police. It was received with visible interest and excitement.

"I will detail a squad of men to go with you," said the chief. "Go at
once. No time is to be lost."

In less than an hour from the time Jack left the haunt of the coiners,
an authoritative knock was heard at the door.

It was answered by Foley.

The old man turned pale as he set eyes on Jack and the police, and
comprehended the object of the visit.

"What do you want, gentlemen?" he asked.

"Is that the man?" asked the sergeant of Jack.

"Yes."

"Secure him."