"You are Mr. Pelter?"
"Yes."
"I am Richard Rover—Anderson Rover's son."
"Ah! indeed!" cried Jesse Pelter, and gave a slight start. "Glad to meet you, Mr. Rover," and he held out his hand. "Will you—er—step into my office?"
He led the way through two offices to one in the extreme rear. This was well furnished, with a desk, a table, several chairs and a bookcase filled with legal-looking volumes. In one corner was a telephone booth, and a telephone connection also rested on the desk.
"I came to see about my father," said Dick, as he sat down in a chair to which the broker motioned.
"You mean, about your father's business, I suppose."
"No, about my father. Do you know where he is, Mr. Pelter?"
"Know where he is? What do you mean? Isn't he in New York?" The broker pretended to arrange some papers on his desk as he spoke and did not look at Dick.
"He has disappeared and I thought you might know something about it."