"Excuse me, but I'd like to know if you put up any money as security?" "I did--a hundred dollars." "Ah!" And each of the two men looked at his companion significantly. "Do you know Mr. Dart?" asked the sick man. "We know of him." "He does quite a business, doesn't he?" "He does--in his own way," was the suggestive answer. At that moment came a tramping on the stairs. Then the office door was thrown open, and Hamilton Dart appeared. "There he is!" cried one of the men. "Just as I thought!" He started for the doorway, but Hamilton Dart was too quick for him. He backed away, leaped for the stairs, and went down flight after flight, four and five steps at a time. Both men gave chase, but by the time they reached the sidewalk the swindler had disappeared. "Hullo! what can this mean?" cried Nat, in quick alarm. "I must say I don't like this." "Those men are after Mr. Dart," came from Harry Bray. "You mind the office--I'll see what is up," went on Nat, and followed down the stairs. "He is gone, Parsons," said one of the men. "You are sure it was our man?" "Yes, confound the luck. He got away like a slippery eel." "Did Mr. Dart run away from you?" asked Nat. "That's what he did, young man." "What did he run for?" "Perhaps you know as well as I do." "No, I don't." "How long have you worked for that man?" "Only a few days." "What about that other chap upstairs?" "He came to work about the time I did." "And that pale-looking man, too?" "I don't know any more about him than you do." "Did you place any money in your employer's hands?" "Yes, a hundred dollars. And Harry Bray, the other clerk, put up the same amount." "Humph! I reckon you've seen the last of your cash." "What!" cried Nat, aghast. "Do you mean that?" "I sure do." "But--but----" Our hero was so staggered he could not continue for the moment. "This Hamilton Dart--or whatever he calls himself--is a first-class swindler." "A swindler!" Nat fell up against the doorway. "I--I--then my money is gone?" "More than likely." "Oh, what a fool I've been! And I thought he was such a gentleman." "He has fooled lots of folks besides you, young man," said one of the men, kindly, for he saw that Nat was hard hit. "He isn't a business man at all?" "He is a confidence man from Chicago." By this time, feeling certain something was wrong, Harry Bray and Oliver Ripple came below. "What do you mean by confidence man?" asked Nat, doubtfully. "He is a swindler; one of the kind that can tell a good story in order to get your money." "Who is a swindler?" demanded Harry Bray. "Our employer," cried Nat. "He has run away with our money." "Has Mr. Dart run away?" asked the sick man, nervously. "Yes." "Oh! And to think I borrowed that money from my poor sister!" came with a cry of anguish, and then the sick man sank on the hallway stairs, thoroughly overcome. CHAPTER XIV NAT OBTAINS ANOTHER SITUATION