rriedly, "throw some of my things into a bag and some
of your own with them. Be down at the Lake Shore station at one-fifteen
prepared for a short trip. Where to? Oh, New York and then some. It's
important and interesting. Be there! Good. Good-bye till then." He
snapped down the receiver and hurriedly left the booth.

"Shall we go back?" he asked the girl.

"I suppose we might as well," she said dejectedly. Then brightening
suddenly, "Yes, let's hurry back. Perhaps the professor has found out
something from that queer old writing."

CHAPTER X

THE FIRST LAP OF A LONG JOURNEY

On the way back to the Ardmore home both the girl and her escort were
silent for some time. Then, turning to her, Curlie asked:

"Has this friend of your brother's--Brightwood, did you say his name
was?--has he a seaplane?"

"Is that an airplane which flies up from the ocean and lights upon it
when one wishes it to?"

"Yes."

"He has one of those. Yes, I'm sure of it. He wanted to take me for a
ride out over the sea last summer."

"And is he what you would call a daring chap, ready to attempt
anything?"

"Why, yes, he is; but--but how do you know so many things?"

"It is my duty to know."

Again he lapsed into silence. On arriving at the estate they found
Gladys' father in a strange state of agitation.

"Just received a telegram from an old and trusted friend who is on the
coast of Maine. He says Vincent has been seen there within the last
twenty-four hours. What that can mean I haven't the faintest notion. I
should go there at once but business makes it entirely impossible."

"Under one condition," said Curlie soberly, "I will go East and attempt
to bring your son home. Indeed, I shall go anyway; have already arranged
transportation, in fact, and leave in two hours; but it would please me
if I might go with your approval."

"You have arranged to go?" The older man's face expressed his
astonishment. "For what purpose?"

"On a commission for the government."

"And you wish my permission for what?"

"To bring your son back with a warrant, under arrest."

The older man looked at Curlie for a moment as if to discover whether or
not he was joking.

"Young man," he said slowly, "do you know who I am?"

"You are J. Anson Ardmore, one of the richest men of the Middle West."

"And do you know that I could crush you with my influence?"

"No, sir, I do not." Curlie drew himself up to his full height. "Those
days are gon