“And anyhow, it’s your vacation,” interpolated the magnate. “I know all that, Ready, and depend upon it, you won’t suffer by it if you agree to my wishes. It isn’t exactly as wireless operator I want you to sail on the St. Mark, it’s on a personal mission in part. My son, Tom, is among the refugees somewhere in France. I don’t know where. I haven’t heard a word since this war started, but the last I know he was auto touring north of Paris. He may even have gone into Belgium, for that was a part of his plan.”
“And you want me to try to find him?” demanded Jack slowly.
“Yes, I know it’s a big job, but I know that if anyone can carry it through, you can. Expense is no object, spend all you like but find the boy. This suspense is simply killing his mother and worrying me sick.”
“I’m willing and glad to take the job, Mr. Jukes,” said the young wireless man, “but, as you say, it’s a big undertaking and has about one chance in a hundred of being successful. Besides, you may have heard of him and his whereabouts even before the St. Mark reaches Europe.”
“I’ll take my chances of that,” declared the millionaire. “It’s action that I want. The feeling that something has actually been done to find him.”
“On these conditions, I’ll go and do my best,” said Jack.
“Thank you, Ready, thank you. I knew you wouldn’t fail me. Now about funds. They tell me finances are all topsy-turvy over there now. Nobody can get any American paper money or travelers’ checks cashed. That may be Tom’s fix. You’d better take gold. Here.”
He drew a check book out of a drawer and wrote out a check of a size that made Jack gasp.
“Get gold for that,” he said, as he handed it over, “and when that’s gone, Linwood and Harding, of London, are my agents. Draw on them for what you need. And, by the way, is there anybody you want to take with you?”
“I was going to say, sir,” said Jack, “that for a task like this, Bill Raynor——”