"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."
"What, to-night!" exclaimed the aunt. "Why, that will get you to New York at midnight!"
"Just about," said Tom.