sent him, with a terrified yell, sprawling to the floor.

Then it was that he recognized, in the prostrate figure, Felix Mortimer,
and a sickening sense of the awful truth dawned upon him. He was
trapped!

The genial friend whom he had met on the Bowery now showed his real
character, and before Herbert could further defend himself, he was
pounced upon by him and a villainous looking man with a scraggy red
beard and most repulsive features. They threw a thick black cloth over
his head, and, after binding his hands firmly together, thrust him into
a dark vault, or pen, in the cellar.

Our hero realized now most fully his helpless and defenseless
position--a position that placed him entirely at the mercy of his
enemies; if mercy in any degree dwelt in the breasts of the cruel band
of outlaws in whose den he was now a prisoner.

CHAPTER XI.

IMPRISONED AT THE FENCE.

"This is a fine beginning to a city career--short but brilliant," said
young Randolph to himself, bitterly, as he mused upon his deplorable
situation.

"Fool that I was! It's all plain enough to me now," he continued, after
a half hour's deep thought, in which he traced back, step by step, his
experiences since landing in the big city. "I ought to have recognized
him at once--the villain! He is the very fellow I saw across the street
with his pal, as I left the bank. I thought he looked familiar, but
I've seen so many people in this great town that I'm not surprised at my
miss. Mighty bad miss, though; one that has placed me in a box trap, and
under ground at that."

Herbert was right in his conclusions. The fellow who had so cleverly
played the confidence game upon him was the same one who awaited his
appearance in Wall Street, and afterwards shadowed him up Broadway.

"This must all be the work of that young villain Mortimer," continued
Herbert, still reasoning on the subject. "I ought to have been sharper;
Bob told me to look out for him. If I had had any sense, I could have
seen that he meant to be revenged upon me. I knew it, and yet I didn't
want to admit, even to myself, that I was at all uneasy. He must have
been the same one that pointed me out to this confidence fellow on Wall
Street. He was probably made up with false side whiskers and mustache,
so that I wouldn't recognize him.

"Well," said he, starting up suddenly from his reverie, "how is all this
reasoning about how I came to get into this trap going to help me to get
out o