“It’s Thomas Thatcher, sir.”
“What does he want with me?” inquired the rich man, arching his eyebrows in surprise.
“I don’t know, sir; he didn’t say.”
“Well, let him come in.”
A minute later Tom was ushered into the presence of his employer.
“Well, Tom, what’s your business?” asked Squire Simpson, curtly.
“My mother tells me, Mr. Simpson, that you were with father in California just before his mysterious disappearance——”
“Suppose I were!” interrupted Squire Simpson, brusquely.
“I wanted to ask you a few questions about him,” said Tom.