He was in the midst of talking to Tom about the letter when the housekeeper came running from the house.

“Oh, here you boys are!” she exclaimed.  “You must get Dr. Mays at once.  Those red drops he gave your father are finished and I can’t find any more.”

“I’ll telephone,” said Jack promptly, stuffing the letter into his pocket.

“I’ve already tried that,” said Mrs. Bagley, “but the line is out of order.”

“Can’t we get some other doctor?” asked Tom.

Mrs. Bagley shook her head.

“Dr. Mays is the only one who understands your father’s case,” she said.  “You must get him as soon as possible.”

“Is dad conscious yet?” asked Jack anxiously.

“Yes, he has been trying to tell me something but I won’t let him talk.”

“We’ll get Dr. Mays right away,” said Jack, but then he suddenly recollected that the electric car was slightly out of order.  There would be no time to stop and repair it then.

Luckily the Wondership still stood outside the shed.  Five minutes later the boys were soaring aloft, bound for the doctor’s house, which was some distance away.  It was not till they had fairly started that they noticed the change in the weather.

The thunderheads they had seen earlier in the day now spread and covered the whole sky with a dark pall.  The air was very still, as if nature was holding her breath.  Far off, though in plain view, the sea was lying like a smooth sheet of steel-gray velvet.  A sailing ship, with sails flapping, was becalmed some distance from shore.

“Going to rain,” said Tom.

“Worse than that, I think,” said Jack.  “We’re in for the storm that’s been making up for two days now.”

“Well, we can get there and back before it breaks.”

“Easily.  Let those motors out, Tom, we want to make good time.”

It was oppressively hot, and had it not been for Jack’s anxiety he would have enjoyed the swift cooling passage through the thundery air.  But he was strangely troubled.  Did that letter mean that his father was on the verge of ruin?

Suddenly he bethought himself of Ned Nevins’ letter.  He opened it, having pushed it into his pocket when they entered the workshop, where Mr. Chadwick had placed it before opening the ominous epistle from his brokers.  It was a friendly, chatty note from the boy, and enclosed the checks covering the joint dividends of Jack and Tom in the Hydroaeroplane Company.

“Well, at any rate, that’s something,” declared Jack to Tom, as he handed him the letter and his check.

“Yes, but if Uncle Chester is ruined, it’s only a drop in the bucket,” said Tom.

“Well, it’s no use crossing your bridges till you come to them,” said Jack, “and anyhow, that letter may be only a false alarm.  I’ve heard they get these financial panics in Wall Street just like kids get the measles, and they get over them as quickly.”