“Yes; he carries a quarter of a million dollars of insurance.”

“Is the insurance payable to his widow, or others—–­or to his estate?”

“I don’t know,” mused News Editor Bradley, a very thoughtful look coming into his face.

“Well, it’s worth while finding out,” pursued Dick.  “See here, suppose Dodge has been using the bank’s funds, and found himself in a corner that he couldn’t get out of?  Then, if the insurance money goes to his widow, it would be hers, and no court could take it from her for the benefit of his creditors.  If it goes to the estate, instead, then the insurance money, when paid over, could be seized and applied to cover any shortage of the missing man at the bank.”

“So that-----?” interrogated the news editor, his own eyes twinkling
shrewdly.

“Why, in case—–­just in case, you understand—–­that Mr. Dodge has gone and gotten himself into trouble over the bank’s funds, then it’s probable that he has done one of two things.  Either, in despair he has killed himself, so that either his widow or the bank will be protected.  If the missing man didn’t do away with himself, then probably he has put up the appearance of suicide in the hope that the officers of the law will be fooled of his trail, and that either a wronged bank or a deserted wife might get the insurance money.  Of course, Mrs. Dodge might even be a party to a contemplated fraud, though that’s not a fair inference against her unless something turns up to make it seem highly probable.”

“My boy,” cried Mr. Bradley admiringly, “you’ve all the instincts and qualities of the good newspaper man.  I hope you’ll take up the work when you get through the High School.  But now to business!”

“Where do you want me to go?  Where do you want me to take up the trail?  Where it started, just above the river bend?  That’s out in the country, a mile and a half from here.”

“Darrin,” begged the news editor, “won’t you step to the ’phone and ring up Getchel’s livery stable?  Ask the man in charge to we want a horse with a little speed and a good deal of endurance.”

While Dave was busy at the wire Dick and the news editor talked over the affair in low tones.

“With the horse you can cover a lot of ground,” suggested Bradley.  “And you’re right about taking up the trail where it started.  In half an hour, if you don’t strike something big, you can drive back here on the jump for further orders.  And don’t forget the use of the ’phone, if you’re at a distance.  Also, if you strike something, and want to follow it further, you can have Darrin drive in with anything that you’ve struck up to the minute.  Hustle, both of you.  And, Darrin, we’ll pay you for your trouble tonight.”

Horse and buggy were soon at the door.  Dick sprang in, picking up the reins.  Dave leaped in at the other side.  The horse started away at a steady trot.

“I hope those boys have brains enough not to go right past the story,” mused Bradley, gazing after the buggy before he went back to his desk.  “But I guess Prescott always has his head squarely on his shoulders.  He does, in school athletics, anyway.  Len Spencer is the man for this job, so of course Len had to be laid up with a cold and fever that would make it murder to send him out tonight.”