“Oh, Flukes—something like that, anyhow. I never was good at names.”
“Was it Jukes?”
“That was it,” cried Donald, snapping his fingers.
“Well, boys, what’s the matter?” demanded the missing man’s brother as he finished with the register and turned amazedly to face his two young followers grasping Donald’s ragged figure on each side as if they had a prisoner in custody.
“Mr. Jukes, this boy has seen and talked to your brother within the last two weeks,” was the announcement from Jack that sent the millionaire staggering back against the hotel desk, for once in his life giving way to uncontrolled amazement.
CHAPTER XIX.—HE TELLS A STRANGE STORY.
“Bless my soul,” he exclaimed, when he found breath, “you boys are always digging up somebody. Who is this?”
He regarded the ragged figure of the unfortunate Donald with some disapprobation. Jack explained, and then Donald, stumbling and stuttering somewhat under Mr. Jukes’ steady eye, told his story.
“But you have not told us the most important part of it all,” said the millionaire, as he concluded. “Where was my unfortunate brother taken to by this ruffian?”