“You don’t mean to say that Brick ran away?” asked Jerry.
“Oh! didn’t you know it?” exclaimed Tom, in surprise. “I don’t suppose I ought to have said anything about it, then. But come on. I’ll take you downtown. Mr. Glendale is at dinner now. We’ll go to his office later on.”
So the two lads sallied out from the depot. What followed was like a fleeting panorama to Jerry, but it was a very dazzling and fascinating one.
At length, after a ride on the elevated road, they reached the City Hall. Through narrow Nassau street they walked, and then through to Broadway. Tom led his companion into a great stone building, many stories high.
The rode half-way to the top in an elevator. When it stopped, they got out and traversed a long corridor. At the further end was a glass door, and on this Jerry read:
“FREDERICK GLENDALE,
“Law Offices.”
Tom entered boldly, and Jerry followed.
The sole occupant of the front room was a young man who was bending over a typewriter.
“Hullo, Martin,” said Tom. “Mr. Glendale here?”
“No; he left town yesterday morning.”