The bustle of getting a ticket and finding a seat occupied most of the ten minutes they had to spare before the train started, and, as the swift express glided out, Mr. Buxton waved his hat to Jack leaning through the window, and cried, "Good luck!"
Of Jack's swift scurry across the Channel and over the Continent it is not necessary to enter into details. He made the journey with the utmost speed, and chafed at every delay. At last the train ran into the station of Brindisi, and Jack hung half out of the window, his eyes searching the crowd for Risley, to whom he had telegraphed his time of arrival.
"Hullo, Buck," sang out Jack, as a middle-sized, stiff-built man of five and thirty ran up to his carriage door.
"Glad to see you, Jack," said Buck Risley, as they shook hands. "Very glad to see you."
"Any news?" snapped Jack.
"Not a word," replied Buck gravely, "not a word. Is this your bag?"
"Yes," said Jack sombrely, for he was very disappointed. He had been hoping to hear that something had been found out, or that his father had returned.
Buck took Jack's gladstone, called a carriage, and gave the name of the hotel. He did not speak till they were rattling along the streets of Brindisi.
"Say, Jack, this beats the band," he said. "I can't make a guess what's happened to the Professor."
Mr. Haydon and Buck Risley had first met in a "wild-cat" mining camp in Dakota. The Lone Wolf Clarion had introduced the English engineer to the local community as Professor Haydon, and Mr. Haydon had been the Professor ever since to his part-comrade, part-servant.