Part 18 (1/2)

”Anderson Rover was at this hotel until yesterday morning. His baggage is here. Bill unpaid. Left no word.

Manager.”

”Gone!” murmured d.i.c.k, brokenly. ”'Left no word,' 'Bill unpaid!' What can it mean?”

”Something unusual, eh?” said the operator, as he took the bankbill the youth handed out to him for the message and gave back the change.

”Very unusual,” was the reply. ”I don't know what to make of this.”

d.i.c.k thought for a moment. ”I suppose I can't get a train home before morning.”

”No, the first train for you is the eight-forty-five to-morrow.”

”Too bad! I wish there was a train right away.”

There was no help for it, and a few minutes later the youth left the depot, and jumping on the motorcycle, started back for Brill College.

As he rode along d.i.c.k's thoughts were busy. What had taken his parent to New York and why had he disappeared so mysteriously?

”He certainly must have gone there on business--the business that has been bothering him so long,” he mused. ”But would that cause him to disappear? Maybe he had an accident, or was waylaid for his money.”

A thousand thoughts surged through poor d.i.c.k's brain, but he could reach no definite conclusion regarding his father's disappearance. Yet he was certain of one thing.

”He didn't leave the hotel that way of his own accord,” he reasoned.

”He would pay his bill and look after his baggage. It's for some outside reason that he didn't return to his hotel and answer Uncle Randolph's telegram.”

When d.i.c.k arrived at the college he put the motorcycle away and went directly to his room. Sam and Tom were still away, but he heard them returning just as he was on the point of going after them. As they came in, he motioned for them to close and lock the door. Fortunately, they had their rooms to themselves, Songbird, their only roommate, having gone away for the night.

”What did you learn, d.i.c.k?” asked both brothers, quickly.

”Not much--and still a great deal,” he answered, and told them how he had tried to send word home and had then called up the hotel in the metropolis.

”What do you make of this?” asked Tom, after he and Sam had read the brief message from the hotel manager.

”Do you think he met with an accident?” questioned Sam.

”I don't know what to think.”

”It looks mighty suspicious to me--the bill unpaid and baggage left behind,” murmured Tom. Then of a sudden he drew a sharp breath. ”Oh, d.i.c.k, do you think----” And then Tom stopped short.

”What, Tom?”

”I--I hate to say it, but do you think it's possible that dad got--got a little bit out of his head--with that business worrying him?”

”It's possible, Tom. Men have been known to get that way from business troubles, and dad was far from well, we all know that.”

”He should have taken somebody to New York with him,” put in Sam. ”But it's no use talking about that now. The question is, What are we going to do? I can't stay here and study when he is missing.”

”Not much--I couldn't study a thing!” cried Tom.

”I know what I am going to do,” replied d.i.c.k. ”I am going to take that early train home, and see Uncle Rudolph. I'll send another message to that hotel manager, too, and then, unless we get word that everything is O. K., I'm going to New York as fast as I can get there.”