Chapter 8 THE SECRET OF THE IRON DOOR.

The feeling uppermost in the mind of Frank Mansfield, as handcuffed and helpless, caught under the most suspicious circumstances on the very spot where a great crime had been committed, he accompanied Officer Schneider on the short journey to New Church street station, was one of hopeless despair.

What was the true meaning of these strange happenings?

What has become of Cutts, of his unhappy mother, and of the two boys who had detained her beneath the church-yard wall as he himself entered the bank?

He did not know.

He could not form even the faintest idea.

Until now the thought that Cutts had been other than sincere in his request to examine the signature book of the bank had never entered his mind, but as he began to think serious doubts found place therein.

Was not this very like a conspiracy? Did not the whole affair bear the appearance of what is commonly termed a put-up job?

Most decidedly it was so, and yet, so far as he was aware, the boy, in spite of his misfortunes, did not possess an enemy in the world.

Who, then, would be likely to go out of their way to plot against an individual so insignificant as himself?

It was at the precise moment in which Frank, propounding that question to his troubled mind, heard above the heads of the officer and himself that strange, bat-like cry.

Again the cry was repeated, his conductor advancing before him to ascertain its cause, as has already been described.

Now, such a thought as trying to escape had never once entered into Frank Mansfield's head.

Handcuffed as he stood, to attempt to run with any hope of distancing his pursuer would have been simple folly at best.

Moreover, such an action upon his part he knew perfectly well would only add to the appearance of guilt, quite strong enough against him as matters already stood.

The German policeman had advanced before him, and was peering up among the vines clustered about the top of the Trinity church-yard wall, when Frank, also looking about, perceived close by his side one of the great iron doors, of which there are several at this point set in the wall, opening to the tombs built beneath the bank which rose behind.

Now Frank had often noticed these doors, and as often had carelessly wondered what sort of looking places they might conceal.

Just now he gave the one before which he stood no thought at all, his mind being occupied by his unfortunate situation, and his immediate attention attracted by the bat-like cry from above.

His surprise was, therefore, intense when he suddenly perceived the iron door softly open to an extent sufficient to admit the body of a man.

In the aperture stood a boyish form, rendered plainly visible by the light of a street lamp which stood directly opposite the door itself.

Nor was his surprise less in recognizing in the face before him that of a bootblack who had every afternoon for more than a year past polished his shoes at the close of business hours at the bank.

With a quick movement the boy extended his hand and silently beckoned to him to come in.

The policeman was still skirmishing along the foot of the wall with his head in the air, for that the whole thing occupied but the space of an instant must be distinctly understood, and yielding to an uncontrollable impulse, without the slightest thought of what the result of such action might be, Frank stepped within the iron door by the bootblack's side.

In an instant the door was noiselessly closed behind him, rendering the darkness entire.

The boy, without a word, took Frank by the arm and led him forward, up several steps, and opening a second door of iron like the first, ushered him into a low-vaulted apartment not higher than his head.

"There you are, Mr. Mansfield," said the boy, respectfully. "I tought I could do it, an' I have. I'd like to see the cop as could catch onto yer now!"

"Why, you're Barney, the bootblack, ain't you?" demanded Frank, glancing about him in curious surprise.

Within the vault-for it was nothing more, nor larger than a small-sized bedroom-was a table with dishes upon it, a lamp burning in their midst, a chair or two standing about, and piles of old carpets and faded blankets rolled out upon the stone floor.

Nothing else was to be seen about this strange dwelling-place save a short ladder leading up toward the vaulted brick arch above their heads, down which at this moment two ragged boys came scrambling with all possible speed.

At the same instant Frank heard just such a sound as that which a heavy stone dropped upon frozen ground might make.

The two boys sprang from the ladder to the floor of the vault, laughing aloud.

"We fixed him, Barney!" cried one, giving utterance at the same time to the strange, bat-like cry which had so puzzled the worthy Schneider. "He's running up and down the wall, swearing every Dutch swear he knows. An' dis is your friend, is it? I suppose de fellers will kill us for what we've done, but it's too late to help it now."

"Bully for you, Sandy! Garibaldi, you're a trump! Dere's nothing mean about this gent wot I've been a-shinin' of fer more nor a year, you bet. They've jest been a-playin' it onto him, an' I knew it. In course I couldn't stand by quiet like and see him took'n in."

"Barney, what does all this mean?" cried Frank, regarding the boys and their strange surroundings with looks of unfeigned surprise.

"It means that those two fellows, Ed Wilson and Jim Morrow, have gone back on you, Mr. Mansfield, and put up the job with Cutts, the detective to get you into a hole. You are wid the bats now and dey'll see yer all right, and don't make no mistake."

"Put up a job on me! What do you mean?"

"Look at dem bracelets wot you have on yer hands and then ax me. Cutts paid Jim and Ed to rope you in, an' I s'pose somebody's a-payin' of him. We fellers seen the bank robbers go out, an' one of de bats is a-follerin' of 'em now to spot where dey live. If you don't believe me, look a-here-here's a hull lot of things wot dey dropped!"

The boy stooped, and from beneath the pile of old carpet and blankets in one corner of the vault drew out a small tin box filled with a number of documents, which he emptied upon the table among a mass of broken dishes, bread and scraps of meat, with which the table was already covered.

"There dey am," said Barney, triumphantly. "You've been kind to me, Mister Mansfield, and I'm not the feller to go back on you. The boss of de gang dropped 'em, an' me an' Sandy picked 'em up. An' we didn't say nuthin' to them two sick bats, Jim Morrow an' Ed Wilson, about our find, an' now I'm mighty glad of it, too."

The box was marked "Webster National Bank" in black letters painted upon its side.

Instantly Frank recognized it as a box filled with various private documents, intrusted for safe-keeping to the bank, which he had often seen quietly reposing within the rifled vault.

And his heart bounded for joy as he gazed upon it.

If these boys, whoever and whatever they might be, had witnessed the robbery, then with the aid of their testimony, and this box to corroborate it, he would have no trouble in proving his own innocence before the world.

"Speak, Barney!" he exclaimed, eagerly. "What place is this-what do you know of the robbery of the bank? Tell me all about it, and tell me slowly, so that I may be able to understand."

"Well, den, Mister Mansfield, it's jest like dis," replied the bootblack, with the air of one who had suddenly attained greatness, and was fully aware of it, his companions gazing admiringly at him as he spoke.

"Fust we fellers are wot dey call de 'bats in de wall,' or, in plain United States, a lot of chaps wot find it more convenient to live in dis here snug little hole than to sleep on the trucks when the winter-time comes on. Ter-night, as Sandy an' me an' another feller was a-comin' in from the thayter, we happened to see three fellers a-comin' out of the side door of the bank."

"The Webster Bank?" cried Frank, trembling with excitement.

"Of course. Wot other do you s'pose? We was a-comin' down Rector street just as these three fellers come a-sneakin' out.

"We skinned over the church-yard fence, an' give 'em the bat-call, wot we gives to de fellers of our gang to let dem know we're around.

"Giminnetti! you'd orter see 'em cut round the corner, an' the foremost of them dropped this here box in the snow."

"I see it all!" cried Frank, bitterly. "Cutts knew of this intended robbery, and planned to have suspicion thrown upon me. Fool that I was to listen to his lying words!"

"Betcher life," replied Barney, sententiously. "Hold up fer a minute, an' I'll tell you all about that, too."

But Frank Mansfield failed to reply.

Moving toward the pile of documents, he had, as well as his manacled hands would allow him, opened the one nearest the edge of the table, and was now examining it by the uncertain light of the lamp.

What was this?

Surely there must be some mistake!

But no-here it was all down in black and white.

"And I do give and bequeath to the said Frank Mansfield, when he shall have reached the age of twenty-two, all of the property herein described, the exact location of which will be found fully set down in the sealed parchment which accompanies this will.

"Witness my hand and seal,

"Jeremiah Mansfield.

"Witnesses:

"Elijah Callister.

"Henry Smith.

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New York, 1879."

It was the will of the boy's paternal grandfather, dated five years back, and on the very day preceding the old gentleman's death, as he had good cause to remember, and drawn in favor of himself.

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