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"You haven't any word from dad?" questioned Sam.
"Nothing, boys -- and I do not know what to make of it."
"It is a fearful state of affairs," burst out Mrs. Rover, and tears stood in her motherly eyes. "We cannot imagine what has happened to your father."
"I sent another telegram to that hotel," said Dick. "I asked the manager to send his reply here."
It was a rather sad home-coming, and even Tom felt much depressed in spirits. All filed into the house and to the sitting-room, leaving Jack Ness and Aleck Pop to look after the automobile and the baggage.
"We ought to get a message from New York soon," remarked Dick, after his uncle had related the little he had to tell about how Anderson Rover had gone away on the trip to the metropolis. Evidently Randolph Rover knew little about the business that had taken his brother to the city. He was no business man himself -- being wrapped up in what he called scientific farming -- and probably the boys' father had not thought it worth while to take him into his confidence.
Dinner was on the table, and the boys went to the dining-room to eat. But nobody had any appetite, and the fine repast prepared by the cook under Mrs. Rover's directions, was much of a failure. Once the telephone rang and the boys rushed to it. But the call was only a local one, of little consequence.
"I think the best thing I can do will be to go over dad's private papers," said Dick, presently. "They may give me a clew of where to look for him in New York."
"That's the talk!" cried Tom. "Come on, let's get busy." He hated to sit still at any time, and just at present inactivity was doubly irksome.
During the past year a room had been added to the house and this was used as a library and sort of office combined, being provided with a substantial safe and two roller-top desks. One of the desks was used exclusively by Anderson Rover for his private letters and papers. When sick the man had given Dick the extra key to the desk, telling him to keep it. The father trusted his three sons implicitly, only keeping to himself such business affairs as he thought would not interest them.
The boys sat down and, led by Dick, began a careful inspection of the many letters and documents which the roller-top desk contained. A large number of the papers and letters they knew had no bearing on the affair now in hand. But presently Dick took up some letters of recent date and scanned them with interest.
"I guess this is what we are after!" he cried.
"I was afraid it might be that."
"What is it?" asked his brothers.
"That old irrigation scheme -- the one run by Pelter, Japson & Company, of Wall Street, New York."
"Why, I thought dad had dropped that," said Sam, in surprise.
"He tried to. But they held him to some agreement -- I don't know exactly what. They wanted to get more money out of him -- if they could."
"And you think he went to New York on that account, Dick?" asked Tom.
"It looks so to me."
"But that doesn't account for his disappearance."
"Perhaps it does."
"What do you mean?"
"Those fellows may be holding him a prisoner, or they may even have put him out of the way altogether -- although I doubt if they are as bad as all that."
"Some men would do anything for money," grumbled Sam. "But what good would it do to hold him a prisoner?"
"They may want to force him to sign some papers, or give up some papers he is holding, Sam. One thing is certain, they were very anxious to see him -- these letters show that."
"Hadn't we better telegraph to them and see what they have to say?" suggested Tom.
"Perhaps, Tom -- but, somehow, I don't think that would be a wise move to make. Father did not trust them. He said they were sharpers. If we sent them any word it might put them more on guard than they would otherwise be. I think the best thing to do is to go to New York and interview them personally -- if we don't get word from dad before we leave."
"I think -- -- " commenced Tom, and just then the telephone bell rang and all rushed to it. Dick took up the receiver.
"Is this the Rovers' house?" asked a voice over the wire.
"Yes."
"I have a telegraph message for Richard Rover."
"All right, Mr. Barnes," answered Dick. "What is it?" He had recognized the voice of the telegraph operator at Oak Run.
"Oh, it's you, is it, Mr. Rover?" returned the operator. "This is from New York City, and is signed, 'Thomas A. Garley.'"
"Yes, yes! Read the message!" cried Dick, and all three boys listened closely while Dick held the receiver.
"He says: 'No news of Anderson Rover. Better come on and investigate.'"
"Is that all?"
"Yes." And the operator repeated the message. "I'll mail the sheet to you," he added.
"All right, much obliged." Dick turned to his brothers. "Shall I send word back that we are coming?" he questioned.
"Yes."
"Take this message down, Mr. Barnes," went on Dick, and dictated what he wished to say. "I'll settle next time I see you," he added, and hung up the receiver.
The uncle and the aunt of the boys wished to know the news, if such it can be called, and the lads told them. At once Mrs. Rover burst into tears.
"I am sure something has befallen Anderson!" she sobbed. "Oh, what shall we do, Randolph?"
"I -- I think I had better go to New York and -- er -- make some -- er -- inquiries," answered her husband, somewhat helplessly, for a visit to the teeming metropolis always appalled him.
"No, you stay here, and wait for some word, Uncle Randolph," said Dick. "Sam and Tom and I are going to New York."
"Oh, boys!" cried Mrs. Rover. "Going alone?"
"Why not, Aunt Martha?" asked Sam. "We are not afraid."
"I know that. But this is -- er -- no ordinary trip. You may get into trouble, and -- -- "
"If we do, we'll get out of it again," put in Tom, grimly.
"Oh, if only we knew what had become of your dear father!" and the lady's eyes filled again with tears, while Uncle Randolph looked deeply sympathetic.
"I think we had better start at once," went on Dick. "We can get the five-thirty train down."