“Yes; Dick has found him,” called another.

“I rather think so,” Dick nodded.  “At least, I believe our crowd has seen Garwood very lately.”

Prescott’s evident confidence aroused instant curiosity.

“Where?” demanded a dozen voices quickly.

“I wish you young men wouldn’t answer, but just come with me,” spoke the tall man quickly.  “If your information proves correct, and we find the missing man, the reward will be yours.”

Dick turned to nod to his companions, as the tall man in black turned to lead the way.  Their guide, after making sure that Prescott was at his side, walked rapidly down the street a few doors, halting before the street door of one of the office buildings.

“Come upstairs and tell Lawyer Ripley whatever you know,” requested the tall man.

“I don’t believe you’ll find him in Sundays,” replied Dick.

“We shall to-day,” responded their guide confidently.  “Mr. Ripley is helping us in this search.”

This, then, looked like proof that the Garwood family was well-to-do, for Lawyer Ripley seldom worked for small fees.

Running ahead, the tall man threw open the door of the lawyer’s office.

“Mr. Ripley,” he called, “here are some boys who think they have seen Amos Garwood.  Probably these youngsters are half dreaming, yet they may have some information of value.”

“I know these boys,” nodded the lawyer, looking up, “and they are dependable.  They are good, bright boys.  Prescott, come forward and tell me just what you know, or think you know.”

“First of all, sir,” urged Dick, “let me give the best description I can of the man we’ve seen.”

“A good idea,” nodded Mr. Ripley.  “Go ahead.”

Nor had young Prescott been engaged very long in his task of description before the tall man broke in excitedly: 

“That’s our man, beyond a question!  Where did you see him?  When?”

Dick hastily recounted the strange happenings at the supposedly untenanted cottage of the old water-works project.

“We must get there without delay,” called the tall man to two other men who, so far, had kept in the background in the lawyer’s office, but who had been deeply interested hearers.  “One of you boys must go up there with us.  How far is it from here?”

“Come through into my rear office,” suggested Mr. Ripley, “and I can show you the spot from a window.  Come along, Prescott, and tell me if I’m right.  Hello!  There seems to be some trouble up that way,” added Mr. Ripley, as he reached one of the windows at the rear.

“There’s a fire up there under the hill,” cried Dick Prescott, as he pressed forward to another window.  “Mr. Ripley, from the location of the smoke, I should say that the cottage itself is afire!”

“And I believe you’re right,” agreed the lawyer.

“Poor Amos!” groaned the tall man.  “The poor fellow may have set fire to the place to destroy himself!  Ripley, I can’t wait here, inactive, another second.  We must start!  Can I get a cab here?”