"Well, then, if you think it wise, perhaps I'd better. I don't want to lose this money I've worked so hard for."
A smile of something like contempt curled the lip of Mr. Black. He knew just how hard Mr. Larabee had "worked" for his money, for many a mortgage he had foreclosed for him, and many a transaction he had consummated—transactions that never got into the law courts.
"Then if you don't want to run any chances, you'd better do as I say," went on the lawyer. "My man will look after matters. You say your nephew and his chums have gone off on a tour. Do you know the route they are going to take?"
"Not exactly, for, though I looked and listened the young spendthrifts changed their plans so often I wasn't able to keep track of them. But they are going to the main cities. Why, would you believe it, they'd think nothing of going hundreds of extra miles, just to get to some place to see the sights! And gasoline is gettin' more and more expensive every day, to say nothin' of tires. Oh, the waste of it!"
"Well, I suppose your nephew is well off?"
"Yes; too much so for his own good!" snapped Uncle Ezra. "If I had the handlin' of his wealth, there'd be a different story to tell."
"I can well believe that," remarked the lawyer, drily. "Now to get down to business. Pay attention, Jake Morton. You will have to follow this party of young fellows in the big touring car as best you can, since Mr. Larabee doesn't know the exact route they will take."
"No, I couldn't find out," mumbled Uncle Ezra, "though I heard something of Buffalo, Cleveland, and so on."
"I guess I can get on their trail, all right," said the lawyer's henchman. "If it's a big touring car, as you describe, it ought to be pretty conspicuous. Folks will notice it and I can make inquiries as I go along."
"Yes, but keep your wits about you. Don't let them suspect, for they are sharp lads, I take it."