"Whew!" whistled George a moment later, as he Stepped into the room, having passed Adam on the stairway. "What's the matter with his Royal Highness, Dickie? He looks like he had been in a boiler explosion." But his expression changed when Dick told him of the interview and apologized for driving a good customer from the office. "Good customer!" he shouted; "good customer! A mighty bad customer. I say you'd better apologize for not throwing him into the street. I'll never set up another line for him unless it's an invitation to his funeral."
For many days Dick searched for the missing girl, bringing to bear all his painfully acquired knowledge of life, and the crooked ways of the world. Though unknown to Mr. Goodrich, the detective from Chicago, whom he employed, was an old companion of Dick's, and to the officer only, he confided the full story of Amy's visit to the park. But they, only learned that she had boarded the twelve-forty Kansas City Southern, for Jonesville, and that a woman answering to her description had stopped there until nearly noon the next day, when she was seen in conversation with a man whose face was badly bruised on the under left side of the chin. The two had taken the same train east on the "Frisco." They found also that her companion of that night at the park, James Whitley, had hurriedly left Boyd City on the morning train, over the "Frisco," to Jonesville, and had not returned, nor could his whereabouts be discovered. It was given out in public, among the society items of the Whistler, that he had been called suddenly to the bedside of a sick friend; but Dick and the detective knew better.
Gradually the interest on the part of the citizens subsided, and the detective returned to Chicago to other mysteries, demanding his attention. Adam Goodrich refused to talk of the matter, and gave no sign of his sorrow, save an added sternness in his manner. But the mother's health was broken; while Frank, declaring that he could not stand the disgrace, went for a long visit to a friend in a neighboring city. Finally Dick himself was forced to give up the search; but though baffled for a time, he declared to Udell and his pastor, that he would yet bring Amy home as he had promised her father. And while he went about his work as usual, it was with a heavy heart, and a look on his face that caused his friends who knew him best to pity.
CHAPTER XVIII
The summer passed and again the catalpa trees shed their broad leaves, while the prairie grass took on the reddish brown of early fall. Jim Whitley suddenly returned to Boyd City and Dick met him in the post-office. "Not a word passed between them, but an hour later a note was put into Jim's hand by a ragged boot-black.
"George," said Dick, that afternoon as they were locking up, "if you don't mind I believe I'll sleep in my old bed in the office to-night."
Udell looked at his helper in astonishment. "What in the world?" he began; then stopped.
"I can't explain now, but please let me have my way and say nothing about it to anyone; not even Clara."
"Why sure, old man," said the other heartily; "only I don't know why." He paused again; then in an anxious tone, "Dickie, I know it's hard, and you've been putting up a great fight, but you're not going to let go now?"
"No, no, it's not that, old man: I'll explain some day." And something in his face assured his friend that whatever it was that prompted his strange request, Dick was still master of himself.